The Cahill Games: Burning Cycle
by I'm Queen for a reason
Summary: Welcome, welcome to the 39th Annual Cahill Games! This year is going to be super fun; this year we'll have siblings pit against each other and watch as they fight to the death. Especially with this year's addition- the cunning Kabras, bloodthirsty Holts, charming Wizards, smart Starlings and innocent Cahills, who will win? You know what they say, may the odds be ever in your favor!
1. The Reapings

**HIIII! I thought I try having a shot at this...Anyway I hope you like 'Cahill Games'.**

**Keys- **

**Vesperia- Panem**

**Burning Cycle- Quarter Quell**

**District Madrigals- District 12. **

**Don't own anything; except these are my words. **

CHAPTER 1

The Reapings

Amy Cahill woke up to the sounds of the breeze gently washing over the wooden hut. Her fingers curled around her brother's soft hand, warmth shot up her body and a small smile curled at her lips as she sat up.

The wooden hut was silent, peaceful, and gentle in the crack of dawn. Amy could tell it was early in the morning; the skies was a mixture of orange and blue, small rays of sunshine peeking through cracks and holes of the hut. It was quiet now; Amy wished it would stay that way of course but she could only savor mute times like this in the house right now because Aunt Beatrice could start screaming again. It didn't matter who Aunt Beatrice scream at; she could've been screaming at Dan because it was raining or at Amy because they didn't have any money. Aunt Beatrice screams all the time, it was hardly a surprise.

_And she's the adult,_ Amy thought sulkily. She found herself staring at the calloused palms of her hand; her brother was asleep. She turned to scan his cute face, but of course he would've thrown a fit if she used that to describe him. His blonde hair was a messy rat nest, his face fresh as clear water. Underneath his pale, skin flesh covered eyelids were jade green eyes- they shared those eyes.

Dan Cahill was to believe to be her only half-decent relative, their parents died in a fire when they were younger and their grandmother passed away six months ago- leaving them at the full mercy of the abusive Aunt Beatrice.

_No more brooding,_ Amy chided herself silently; she was now wide-awake and she couldn't go back to sleep. Who can? It was the day of the Reapings; she shuddered silently at thought as she dragged her feet out of the ragged bed and onto the floor.

"Where are you going?" She heard her brother say as she got up. Dan Cahill was fully awake already; his green eyes met his sister's as she gave him an uneasy smile.

"H-H-Hunting, I c-c-can't sleep," She stuttered and then cursed herself for doing so; she was never good with words- she knew what to say but when it was time to say them…the words turn to mush.

"Can I come?" Dan asked eagerly as he threw off the ripped bedcovers and hopped out of the bed.

"F-f-fine," They both dressed quickly and silently, they have no intentions to wake up Aunt Beatrice. Amy threw on some trousers, hunting boots, a loose linen top and a hunting leather jacket that was her mother's. She ran her fingers all over the material, the flaxen feel of it and her mother's scent doomed to be there forever. Amy didn't mind, even if it brought tears to her eye as memories flashed by.

They encountered their Egyptian Mau, Saladin, as they walked out of the room and Dan grew fondly at the cat. "Hullo," He said pleasantly to Saladin, scratching him behind the ear as Amy took out a hidden loaf of bread from one of her hiding spots and broke it in half to share with Dan. "Good morning,"

He straightened up and took the offer of bread from Amy; they both bite the bread simultaneously and swallow the bread down. Quiet and hasty moments pass between them and then Amy said, "I f-f-feel horrible, we s-should leave s-s-some of the b-b-bread for Aunt B-B-Beatrice,"

"She was horrible to us why should we repay her with our savaged food?" Dan asked sharply as his sister nodded and sighed. They finished the bread quickly and Dan said, "Let's go before the monster wakes up," Amy gave him a look but didn't protest.

They left the house and strode into the city centre of District Madrigal; a poor, little District who's specialty was coal mining. Amy watched mournfully as she edge closer to the woods for her normal hunting, the homeless- mostly the elderly, was forced to cobble around and drag their body around, begging for food and sleep on the streets. They normally die fast- mostly out of starvation. Not many were up yet, of course not that Amy could see why they would be awake; it was the day of the Reapings. Everyone was hidden in their huts, trying to bear possibly the last few hours of their child or themselves.

It was one of the few horrors that the Cahill Games provided and today was the Reapings for those games. This year it was the 39th annual Cahill Games and this year it was the Burning Cycle.

Long time ago there was once a place call America but the feuding wars between the Cahills and Vespers has grown bigger than ever; the Vespers were ruthless of course- killing and massacring humanity until it ended with the Cahill Serum entrusted upon the Vespers and the Vespers taking control of the world. In this world, Cahills were enslaved and it was a new 'country'. Europe, Asia, Middle East, etc. had been perished by the Vespers and now 'America' was the last one standing, it was called Vesperia.

Original, right?

However, it had been thirty-nine years since the first Cahill Games- a pension for one of the worse Vesperia's rebellions. The Cahills- all of the Districts; Ekaterina, Lucian, Tomas, Janus and Madrigals united to fight them and came close to defeating the Vespers but they failed and to remind people of such treachery they created the Cahill Games.

Normally they send ten people into an arena created by the Vespers, they had to fight to the death until the last person standing- or alive. Kids age from thirteen to twenty had to participate- of they don't obey or go to the Reapings where they chose the tributes; the crime was punishable by death. Amy feared and hated the Games. It was cruel; of course but what do you expect from Vespers?

She glanced at Dan as they crossed the open space of their District; it was quiet and lifeless as if the Games and the Vespers has sucked the living energy out of everyone. She was afraid for Dan; it was after all his first year. He was thirteen officially and she was sixteen. Three years since her first Reaping, oh she knew how nervous she felt.

She had taken about six tessarae, meaning she had six more chances of being in the Games for exchange of more grains and oils; she didn't dare let Dan take any tessarae even if their hunger depends on it. She will spend all her life protecting him even if she didn't have the guts to face big crowds.

After walking along the main path of their village, they reached the outskirts of their tiny district and were at the opening of the woods. Amy gave Dan a smile and Dan smirked back, the woods were the only place they could escape. Where Amy could roam free, fascinated by the botany and practicing archery and where Dan could perfect his skills with dual swords.

The opening of the woods was protected by an electric fence to ward off wild animals though Amy didn't see the point of having one when they didn't even have electricity. If they were lucky, it was normally for two or one hour and the animals strayed off from the district.

"Let's go, I need to see Remus and Rufus," Dan muttered greedily as Amy clutched his cold fingers and scanned the area for the Guard-Watchers- the guards who kept everyone in line from rule breaking- and deemed the area as approachable. Going in the woods weren't allow because poaching from the woods is a crime, and it really was the only source of eatable food. Sometimes Amy wondered if it wasn't the Games that killed them it would be starvation.

Dan yanked the fence open with the bendable wire, making a hole big enough for them to climb through; he beckoned her forward with a wry grin, "Ladies first,"

Amy rolled her eyes but climbed through first anyways, Dan followed her and they ran off into the woods.

Once they were far in enough, Amy nearly whooped out loud in freedom. She loves the woods, the one place she was rid of her stutter and Aunt Beatrice and the clutches of the Vespers. The one place where she and Dan was safe.

The woods was shady, tall, large trees block the sunshine and only let some peeks of sunshine through, dry and dead leaves clustered the ground along with dead twigs and loose branches that has fallen. Their weapons was hidden in a hollow log by the corner of an old oak tree, it was their 'Headquarters'.

Amy found her bow and quiver of arrow, Dan took out his dual swords and they started hunting.

She hugged her bow and quiver of arrow, she love it as much as she love to read dusty old History books. It was the only gift from her mother- Hope. The bow was carved beautifully by ash wood, the string was soft but stringent and she carried it carefully, holding the tip of it. The quiver was slung across her bag, black leather straps across her willowy body and a wooden curved little harden bag to place all of her wooden eagle feathered arrows.

Amy fell in love with archery when she was seven, her first shot manage to catapult backwards instead of hitting the target and her dad was chuckling at her failed attempt, Dan was wondering what the hell was going on- daze and curious as the four year old child he once was- and her mother was reassuring her that she would be better at it and also reprimanding her father to be more supportive. Amy felt tears welling up her eyes as flashbacks echoed in her mind.

"Are you crying?" Dan's incredulous voice cut through her thoughts as they strode on in the woods, his fingers twiddling around the hits of Remus and Rufus, the dual swords he received from his father.

"N-n-no,"

"You're stuttering and you're lying," Dan rolled his eyes, "Can you stop being so mushy?" And Amy aimed a heartfelt kick on his shin, he yelped and frightened off a couple of rabbits that Amy had been eyeing a few moments ago.

"Dan! That was supposed to be our lunch!"

"My fault?! You freaking kick me!"

"Because you were being a dweeb," Amy snapped. "End of discussion, now shut up- I think I saw a deer,"

Dan grumbled under his breath but he kept his trap shut and Amy lifted up her bow as she eyed the deer that was hidden along the bushes a few yards away. They were behind a large tree and Amy had her bow and an arrow in her hand, she pulled the string back silently and held her breath. One flawless shot and they'll be able to have full stomachs to the Reapings…

The deer chewed silently on the leaves of the clumps of bushes, thinking it was well hidden and Amy couldn't help but feel guilty for the poor animal. It was beautiful, long and slender legs, she knew they were powerful and strong, long and soft fur covering its strong body and the head graceful and prideful. A proud animal indeed and it was about to be slaughtered…

Any moment now and she would release the arrow, every sharp breath Dan was taking was right in her ear and her heart beat thumping loudly as her fingers sweat. Was it even possible that fingers could sweat? She need to read about it…no, she was thinking too much. Focus, Amy, focus.

Any moment now…

"Oi, Amy and Dan!" Jake Rosenbloom greeted loudly, the birds squawked and flew away and Amy jumped a good five feet, the string was let go and the arrow flew out but it didn't hit the deer because it already ran away thanks to Jake's booming voice that echoed through the woods.

Amy bristled in annoyance, "J-J-Jake!" She stuttered, feeling more annoyed than ever because it came out as a stutter. _For god's sake Amy,_ she cursed herself. "That's our d-d-dinner!"

Jake smiled apologetically, his brother Atticus- Dan's best friend- has came out of the shadows and was trudging forward towards them; right behind Jake. "Sorry," Though he didn't sound very sorry at all.

"Y-you owe me a d-d-deer,"

"Three rabbits,"

"F-f-fine,"

"Stop flirting," Dan butted in with his crooked grin. Amy shot him one of her sharp glare, he shrugged it off and Amy rolled her eyes.

Jake Rosenbloom and Atticus Rosenbloom were their friends since…Amy was twelve and Dan was nine. She remembered those days; when it was her first time hunting alone- well with Dan but without adult supervision. Amy was fearing she or Dan might get into the Games and hunting; learning how to survive was one of the key to surviving the Games.

Amy was closer to Jake and Dan was closer to Atticus, even if they had completely different personalities. Dan was rather a crook, he was mischievous and he didn't have a problem with nicking things from the bakery. If he didn't have Amy around to nag him about he would've been in jail a long time ago. Dan was popular at school, sociable and funny but immature and sometimes foolhardy. He doesn't look at big pictures and main ideas; he was a detailed guy. A strategist at heart. Atticus was more like her, book-ish, shy and had a problem with people. Not necessarily as if she had a bone to pick with everyone of them but she just want to avoid crowds and strangers as much as possible- Atticus could relate. Jake was different from any of them, he was a hothead and ill tempered (like Dan when he's pissed off at Aunt Beatrice) and he get angered easily. His impulsiveness was so much like Dan, it wasn't even funny but he's a bit more sensible…

"Let's go hunt," Jake said cheerfully, Amy raised an eyebrow- it wasn't like Jake to be so cheerful; it was a rare occasion and especially on days of the Reapings…

They spend the rest of the early morning catching rabbits by using snares and traps made by Atticus and they shared the meat all together, they gutted the rabbits by pouring out the blood and taking out it's intestines which Jake did with his hunting knife while Amy looked away because it was a rather sickening sight. After gutting out the rabbits' guts and blood, they have three large slabs of meat each then Amy start picking out the berries; able to differentiate between the poisonous ones and the ones you can munch on all day.

They collected about a handful of berries, and they went towards the river. Dan caught fishes by stabbing down Remus and Rufus into the river and collecting fishes.

After catching their food, they gathered near at their 'Headquarters' and started a small fire. A small fire would do because if it's too big it would send too much smoke out into the sky and alert the Guard-Watchers.

They ate the berries first as the meat and fish cooked, Amy lapped tastily at the sweet juices of blueberries pouring in her mouth and licked her lips when she realize the handful of berries she laid on a grass has finished.

Dan and Atticus wondered off to check on the snares, leaving Amy and Jake to watch the fire. The tension between Amy and Jake was so thick, you could cut it with a butter knife. She silently wondered if Dan and Atticus had put their heads together and purposely left them alone. If it was, she'll interrogate Dan later.

Jake gave her another one of his heart-melting grins, and Amy could feel a hot, red blush blooming on her cheeks as she tried to look away so Jake wouldn't see her red face. If Dan was here, he'll never live it down.

But there was no denying Jake Rosenbloom was handsome, his hunting knife crudely cut off his dark shaggy mop of hair and he has warm, shining blue eyes- twinkling brighter as the sun grew higher in the sky and he had nice features, strong chiseled nose, a stubborn jaw and prominent cheekbones. He has broad shoulders and wipe hips, a tone abdomen- a token from years of hunting- and muscled biceps. Amy always felt stabs of jealousy when girls from the nearby school giggled when he pass by and he was so oblivious that they had crushes on him- at least he wasn't an arrogant idiot.

Amy remembered the times when they first met, Amy was practicing her archery when he saw a fourteen years old boy walking towards her and for a fleeting moment she was afraid that he caught her in the woods but instead he came to greet her, his face sulky and they had been friends since them- it started with him as fourteen and her as twelve and now they were sixteen and eighteen; friendship still as strong.

"It's the day of the Reapings," Jake said softly, poking the fire with a dead branch and Amy focused on the fish intensely, watching as the fire made the scaly skin peeled off and revealing white, meaty soft flesh. "I know you're worried about Dan,"

"H-h-he'll be fine," She said to him, more to herself. "H-H-He only have o-o-one slip of paper in the b-bowl and…" She lost trail of her thoughts, the special thing about this year's Cahill Games was that it was the year of the Burning Cycle, usually they doubled the amount of tributes fighting in the arena and meaning more people were being picked and she feared for Dan; no she was mortified for him. It was bad in the Games, worse in the Cycle. The Cycle take place every thirteen years, this was the third one.

"It's okay," Jake slipped his fingers into hers, sitting on the log and in the woods. For a moment she felt safe, really safe.

"N-n-no it isn't," Amy shook her head, taking a calming deep breath and then she checked the meat. They were cooked, finally. Jake helped her to tend to the meat and fish, taking it out of the fire and blowing out the fire. She borrowed Jake's hunting knife and cut the meat and de-bone the fish. "It's j-j-just s-sometimes I w-wish we l-live in a better w-w-world where Atticus and Dan; all of us could be safe,"

"I know," Jake said softly, gathering the last leftovers of the berries. She knew he was talking about Atticus, Atticus was only twelve right now- he only had a year until his name would be in the bowl where they picked names for the Reapings.

"It's s-silly, t-t-thinking like t-t-that,"

"No," Jake reassured her as he reassembled the pieces of fishes. "It gives us hope but we could do it you know,"

"W-what?"

"You know," Jake offered and Amy gave him a blank look that says: _I know I'm smart but it doesn't mean I'm a genius._ "I meant take off to the woods and live here,"

"I c-can't leave D-D-Dan, he's my b-b-brother and you can't l-leave Atticus,"

"We'll take them," Jake supplied vicariously as Amy let out a wobbly chuckle.

"C-Can you imagine Dan a-a-and Atticus living in the w-w-woods? D-D-Dan will be a p-p-pain, complaining and w-w-whining about not having beds,"

Jake's lips twitch, he didn't say anything and Amy smirked slightly, "Point taken," Amy grinned a little and Jake smacked her on the arm. "Shut up," He grumbled.

Amy couldn't help but smile at that, "I d-didn't say a-anything,"

"Wonder who's going to win this year, remember what they always say?" He dodged her previous comment; an obvious sign that shows that she had won.

"Y-y-yeah, m-may the odds be ever-" She stumbled on her words a bit, she did her best imitation of William McIntyre's posh, British voice. Mr. McIntyre was the escort for District Madrigals.

"-in your favor," He finished for her and they shared a smile.

Dan and Atticus returned, no other fishes and meats in hand and Amy rolled her eyes. It proves her theory that they left them alone to 'talk'. They ate silently and save the leftovers for supper and hopefully Dinner.

"We should probably go now," Atticus said nervously. They nodded in unison and departed their 'Headquarters'.

Dan and Amy take the longest to walk back home and Dan deliberately lagging behind Amy when they crossed the town centre again with leftovers wrapped in aloe leaves. Families were still shut up in their homes, Amy knew that for two weeks two- four- families would be grieving in their homes for their children being in the Games. Amy's stomach gurgled with the food churning in her stomach, she felt sick.

* * *

When they reached home, Aunt Beatrice was awake and furious. "Where the hell have you two been?" She screamed, fuming as she spat on Dan's face. "You two ungrateful little brats! I wake up and found you two gone!"

Dan, who never ever restrain from yelling back, hollered back as he was miffed about having Aunt Beatrice's spit slobbered all over his face, "Like YOU care!" He spat.

"Dan!" Amy chided as Aunt Beatrice's face turn from red to purple. "D-d-don't," She hissed the last word in his ear as she clutched his arm, restraining him from doing something rash.

"Shut up you bloody bitch," Aunt Beatrice shot at Amy and Amy flinched at the swear word thrown at her but didn't say anything back because she knew that she would only look like a fool. A bubble of hatred and shame rumbled in her stomach as she stared at the empty ceramic bowl sitting on the broken mantle. Aunt Beatrice's hag face was saggy and ugly, her eyes was icy blue- as cold as her heart- and her lips colored dark red in Day-Glo lipstick.

"Don't call her that!" Dan screamed at Aunt Beatrice but it only granted him worse. Aunt Beatrice let out a mad cackled and slapped him hard on the face, pushing him on to the ground.

"Dan," Amy cried out, worried when Dan glance up to Aunt Beatrice and his body still on the ground. His nose has gushed out blood and his face was a bloody mess. "E-e-enough," She said shakily, pleading at Aunt Beatrice whose face cracked into a gleeful smile.

"I hope you two die in the Games!" She said, her face looking sinister and she stormed out of the house to go to work.

"I hate her," Dan said venomously, his jade eyes glinting vindictively as Amy helped him up. She quickly ran to her small room that she shared with Dan and took out her Apothecary kit where all of the medic herbs she owned were stored. "I freaking hate her,"

"D-D-Dan, hold still," She opened her kit and took out the healing plants, and began crushing it into powder and applied it on his nose. She cleaned away the blood and inspected his nose, "N-n-not broken, and are y-you okay?"

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine, Amy, I just got whacked to the ground by our psychopathic aunt that we're unfortunately stuck with- does that answers your question?" Dan replied, sarcastic and cynical as always and Amy nearly smiled; if Dan could still poke at dry humor than he was fine.

"W-w-we better get d-d-dressed for the R-R-Reapings," She said quietly.

Dan helped prepared the bath of cold water, they quickly showered and dry themselves. Amy came out of the bathroom, a linen towel wrapped around her bare body as she stepped in front of her dresser.

Amy put on the nicest dress she could find, it was jade green and it belongs to her mother. It was strapless, the top was soft- chiffon- and smooth and the bottom flared out nicely, reaching to her ankles.

The girl in the cracked mirror was different than bumbling, stumbling and shy little Amy Cahill. Her stubborn, wild mane of red hair was smooth and flowed nicely in the ponytail, her green eyes shined brightly through her almond shape eyes, her pale skin was white and fresh as the clear lake in the woods and a fresh ray of faint freckles awash on her face. Her red-ish brown hair was vivid, a nice tone of colors mixed together and flowing down in soft waves in a ponytail. When she was a young teenager- somewhere around Dan's age- she used to loathe her red hair; it didn't match with anything. She looked horrible in yellow, brown, red, pink and purple. But green was nice, it brought out the minty shades in her eyes.

The dress was a bit snug, her chest wasn't as developed as her mother's chest was but she used the pins to hold it together. Her image looked…flattering; it was odd seeing her own self in all these pretty getups.

"Wow, you don't look half bad as usual," joked Dan as he stepped into her room, she flicked at the back of his neck and he shrugged it off.

"W-w-whatever, you don't look l-l-like an idiot t-t-too," Amy remarked as her dweeb brother made an offended noise at the back of his throat. She sat down on the creaky bed, facing up to him, as he stood taller than her.

He wore a crisp, slightly wrinkled linen button down shirt that once belonged to Dad- it was the only shirt in his closet that wasn't stained with mud or ripped, she try to use her two fingers to fix up his collar and creased out those wrinkles. His simple black trousers were too small for him, you can see his bony ankles and he wore polished back shoes. He squirmed uncomfortably as Amy tried to tame his mess, unkempt dark blond hair; the small thin stick comb weaving in and out of the tangles. "S-s-stop moving,"

"It's not comfy, and don't bother," Dan said, pushing her hands and the comb away from his messy hair. He quickly tried to flatten it but instead it stick back up.

"Y-y-you look like a little d-d-duck," Amy chuckled softly as she flattened down the piece of his shirt stuck out of his rear end. "Anyway, d-d-don't have to ever w-w-worry about g-g-getting into t-the G-Games," She reassured him as she noticed that his hands were trembling.

"I'm not afraid," He scoffed immediately, but the uncertainty in his voice made it clear that he was deathly afraid of the Games, "I'm perfectly fine," Even if he was lying Amy admired Dan's brave face; he was rather annoying and an immature little squirt but he has never had that phobia of not even able to speak properly. Her fear of crowds was daunting.

"It's o-okay to b-b-be afraid and y-y-you're name is o-o-only in t-t-there once; you didn't take t-t-tesssarae…" But she stopped immediately when the blond boy winced at the mention of tessarae. "Y-you didn't, r-right?"

"I was trying to get more food for us," He said sullenly, "I might have- uh- put up for tessarae…seven times?" He grinned guiltily at her while she stared at him, her face white and livid with anger.

"What?" She demanded, no stutter in that word at all. "Y-your name is in t-t-there for seven times!"

"It's okay, it's not like the odds aren't going in to be my favor," Dan patted her shaky fingers. It did no good on making her feel better. She was furious at Dan for sneaking behind her back and signing himself up seven times yet she was proud that he was giving up his chances in the Games for food for them to eat. She only had her name in there for five times and this year was her third in the Reapings; meaning there was fifteen Amy Cahill in that bowl getting ready to be pick and hopefully never.

They left the house; Aunt Beatrice dressed up in a feathery hag dress and ugly shoes, scarring everyone's eyes with her image. She was grumbling while treading behind her, cursing Dan and Amy and Amy and to clamp her hand tight on his so he wouldn't turn around give her a smack she so rightfully deserve.

The whole of the district has gathered at the middle of the town centre where they has set up a hasty and dirty podium where the District's escort would be making a quick speech on the wars, how the Vespers won and in remembrance of the rebellion- they created the Cahill Games and then they'll pick the tributes.

No one was stupid enough to lock themselves in their own house because the Guard Watchers has did a house check on everyone; Amy had to go to the sixteen years old girl section and Dan has to go to the thirteen year old boys one and Amy felt reluctant on leaving Dan alone.

"Y-y-you'll be s-s-safe," She whispered, "S-s-seven D-Dan against thousands of other k-k-kids, no much c-chance okay?" She crouched a little bit so her face would be on the same level as his; she didn't have to do much though. He was seriously tall, just like his father.

"I'll be fine, Amy," He said impatiently but his wide green eyes were choked with fear, she hugged him and he surprisingly hugged her back. _He'll be fine, Amy, let it go. After this, you can take a deep breath and party until next year._

"I know," She smiled simply and they let go, Dan went off without another word. She shuffled towards the line where all of the sixteen-year-old girls were lining up at; looking terrified. She hoped she didn't look like that. She recognized a few familiar faces from school but none greeted her and she didn't greet them.

She surveyed the eighteen year old boys section and found Jake amongst the crowd, his face set into a grim expression as they locked eyes and those twinkling blue eyes shined at her and they shared a small smile but then the escort, William McIntyre, has stepped on to the podium and start to began his speech.

William McIntyre wasn't a Vesper- he worked as an escort and his nose was like a sundial; large and crooked with dark wise eyes and a serious business face. He did the typically expected, a perfunctory description of the Games, and a pledge on the Vespers' greatness. Amy kept her concentration up, patiently waiting to announce the tributes and the 'special' Burning Cycle.

"And this year is the year of the Burning Cycle," William McIntyre said in a monotone. "And this year we'll have siblings all put together in the arena to fight to the death,"

_Siblings fight to the death?_ She thought, her stomach lurching. She couldn't bear the thought of fighting Dan; against him much less kill him. Who was psycho enough to come up with that idea?

Oh yeah, the Vespers.

The former and only victor of District Madrigals walked onto the stage to give a welcoming speech; and Nellie Gomez's hair was still as crazy as ever. Nellie won the Games about seven or six years ago, she was one of the most remembered victors and also one of the youngest to ever won. She was only thirteen or fourteen when she won. Nellie's strategy was simply astonishing; she was just a shy, simple girl who was timid and afraid- no one ever knew she would made it to the top five; even District Madrigals were astonished to see her do so and when it was downed to the top five. It was boom! She went mad at the Career Tributes; she slaughtered them all in an easy bloodbath and took the crown.

To say, she was a little frightening would be…an understatement.

Nellie was chatty and bubbly as ever on the microphone, making a few jokes here and there. Her deep brown eyes were compassionate yet a little dark, as if hardened and warped by pain and misery- a souvenir she was given when she won the games. Her hair was naturally dark brown, but it was adorned in light white blonde at the fringe and dark lightning blue at the tips of her hair. Nellie smiled, "Well good luck, happy Cahill Games," Her tone suggested otherwise, "And may the odds be ever in your favor," Very little clapping was shown in the crowd, Nellie stepped back and allowed Mr. McIntyre to start picking the tributes.

Her heart quickened as the bowl was being carried and move on to the middle of the stage so they could pick the tributes- they were going to pick siblings! Amy felt her heart beating madly and she take a look at Dan by his section; his face has gone paper white.

"Let's began with the first family of siblings," His fingers reached into the bowl and he picked a slip of paper, Amy crossed her fingers at the back of her body and her eyes fixed at the front. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for the big blow. He unrolled the slip of paper and read it out loud, "The first pair of siblings of District Madrigals for the Annual 39th Cahill Games is…Amy and Dan Cahill."

* * *

**Too bad, Ames. Dan and YOU got into the Games. Okay before you guys have a bone to pick with me on this chapter, let me clear something.**

**A) I know, it's like completely the first chapter of the Hunger Games but I swear that a few first chapters are going to be very similar to some of the chapters to Hunger Games but after that it'll be different. I would be designing the arena (oh god), I would be doing the interviews, ****chariot outfits and all that shiz. **

**B) WHERE'S IAN? Well, he's in another District; the romance will be different from the book. **

**C) I thought Jake would make a good Gale...don't you think?**

**However, I hope it lives to your expectation. We'll get an Ian chapter later, all from his POV. I assure you. Remember reviews are like sweet candy. **

**Ta-ta**

**-Queen**


	2. Where killers roam

**Sorry for the excruciatingly long wait, my computer broke down and it took a sodding long time to get it fix...so sodding annoying. X( And also Homework, I'm working on my novel and I have another fic on my other account. **

**However, here it is and I don't own the 39 clues. Because in the perfect world, I would've been a fourth year at Hogwarts, I would've been a daughter of Hades and I'll be attending Camp Half-Blood ever summer, I would be working secretly as a Janus agent part time and I'll own half of the book series in the world. So no, unfortunately I don't own this. This isn't a perfect world. **

Chapter 2

Where Killers Roam

"Faster, Ian!" Vikram Kabra yelled at his son as he slashed forward his sword at his son.

Ian Kabra huffed painfully, his lungs felt like exploding into a million pieces and his body was about to collapsed from the exertion of his strength. He swung his mace up to meet with his father's blow with the double edge sword, and they parried in the air. Their strengths were in a heated match, Ian was trying his best to keep up but he and his father had been going on like this for the past four hours. "Break, please," He gasped and his father let out a disgusted sound at the back at his throat but leave him be.

God, he hated how weak he sounded but he was exhausted. He shouldered his mace as he stumbled onto the nearest chair, catching his breath. Large bottles of waters was sitting on the table mindlessly, he snatched one and gulped a large quantity of water into his throat, washing away the heat building up in it. "Weak," His father spat at him as he settled the water bottle back on the table and Ian barely flinched at the harsh tone of his voice, he was used to it.

His iron mace was sitting on the table too, and he forced his eyes to stay fixed on the polished bronze handle. His father was rambling about him, picking on his weakness on getting tired easily and whatnot was getting a little irritating. Ian kept his tongue in check, though he was itching to make a scathing comment like: _Well,_ _if you_ _were training_ _non-stop for four_ _hours_, _surely you_ _wouldn't_ _be_ _bloody exhausted? _But he shut up and morphed his face into a cool mask of no expression, a trick he learned ever since he was younger.

The Lucian Training Headquarters was a sanctuary where people come and go, it was built three years back right after the Lucian's tenth win in the Cahill Games so that people who are eager to participate in the Games could prepare as they pleased.

The Headquarters was a high-tech building with thick white walls, bricks and hardened with cement, the windows were glass and framed with steel and insides was a world filled with ammunition, fighting and warriors.

Weapons were stacked extensively, categorize in a very straightforward way; you would have the long-range weapons at one corner and the short-range weapons were at another. Swords, daggers, whips, maces, spears, axes, dual swords and scythes were all by the racks at the right side of the room, bows and arrows, javelins, throwing knives, crossbows, longbows and throwing stars were stacked neatly at the left.

Small fighting arenas were set up in the middle, benches right around them and a water cooler nearby in case anyone had forgotten to brought their own. Today the Headquarters was busy and filled with teenagers and kids training hard for the Games.

At the corner of his eyes, he noticed his mother and his sister making his way towards them; his mother's dark hair swayed slowly to the rhythm of the pace she was walking in and her dark, coffee eyes twinkled amusingly and she had a smile on her face, thank god she was happy. Ian never did like her mother when she was in a mood, which was quite frequent. His sister was the younger, more feminine version of him, same dark tousled hair and glinting amber eyes with aristocratic features, except Natalie's jaw line was sharper and her cheekbones were higher.

"That was excellent, Natalie," Isabel Kabra congratulated loudly, making it a point to the rest of the room and Isabel ignored the coveted glances she had received from others as they settled down in the extra seats around the table Vikram and Ian was sitting at.

Natalie had a wicked smirk on her face, her amber eyes glinted maliciously as if she was eyeing a poor little lamb she was about to slaughter; Ian recognize that glint. He saw it in his own eyes when he was in the zone with his mace. "Thanks, mommy," Natalie said smugly. Suck up, Ian snorted mentally but he kept it together.

The Kabras, the family rolling with wealth, fame and power, they all live in District Lucian; the richest District and the closest to the Vespers. Ian liked the power, but he knew it was also a weakness

"When's the Reapings?" Ian asked his mother immediately, changing the subject abruptly as his mother's lips tightened at the mention of the Games, not because of the disturbing themes of the Games but because Ian had neglected three years of volunteering from the Games.

"In two hours, we'll go later," said his mother stiffly, her inhuman cold brown eyes narrowed at him but he didn't let the chilly glares get to him because he had received the end of it countless times and besides he wasn't going to shiver or flinch under his mother's glare; he was a Kabra, he wasn't pathetic.

"I'm going to volunteer," Natalie spoke up, brushing up her hair off her shoulder and twirling with a lock of her long wavy dark hair and Vikram smiled at his daughter affectionately and Isabel cocked her head, to acknowledge her proudly. Ian's stomach lurched as Natalie smiled, Natalie's fingers tightened around one of her throwing knives that was strapped to her leather belt where five bronze throwing knives hung and shined, gleaming sinisterly. Even though Natalie was smiling pleasantly, there was no masking the sparkle of fear in her eyes that ignited for a quick, faint moment and Ian found his concerns around Natalie, how hard is she trying to impress them?

"How about you, Ian?" His mother's voice was aloof, leaning precariously and graciously on the chair with class. The corner of her lips curled in disdain, and Ian suppressed the urge to bristled; you think a Lucian, a _Kabra _would've been thrilled to be in the Games but honestly to Ian he didn't get what was the point of the Games.

It was a form of punishment; a sign of remembrance for that horrible rebellion thirty-nine years ago where all the Cahills- Lucian, Ekaterina, Janus, Tomas and Madrigals united to fight as one. And they came close to defeating but they didn't; the Vespers won in the end.

Whoever's brilliant idea to raise rebellion at that time was an idiot, it ended up in a colossal fail. Ian couldn't help but snort at that thought, how true. But it was still pointless, why punished the next generation for what they did? It was stupid and simply pointless, wasting time and striking misery everywhere. He wasn't afraid of the Games, he could enter if he wanted to and he obviously could win.

But Natalie however…

There was no doubt she has skill with her throwing knives, she's quite a little she-devil with it and she's agile and quick but she was still and always is his little sister; volunteering for the Games could destroy her mind and fill it with images of castrated bodies.

As annoying and bratty as she is, he didn't want to loose her nor let her succumb to a verge of extreme psychopathic tendencies. He would never have admitted it out loud but he did care about her at some point of his life. "I'm not sure," He said truthfully, His mother and father gave him shrewd glances but no one said anything; he knew better than to cower or whimper under his parent's glares; his mother would've berated him for such cowardly actions and his father would practically disowned him while Natalie sat there, her face curling into a smirk.

He stood up from his chair, swung his mace back at his shoulders and carried it across his shoulders, "Shall we go and prepare for the Reapings?"

The rest of the Kabras followed suit with Ian, leaving the training Headquarters to go and get ready for the Reapings.

The Lucian District was very different from the Madrigals; there was no rundown houses or dirt tracks, the town wasn't flogged up with poor and homeless old beggars but it was Metropolitan and modern. Outside of the Headquarters was a field of clean grass; fresh and smelled like the weedy taste of pine. The road was pebbles being glued together so they can form tracks where cars, busses and vans could transport people from one place to another.

A sleek black, long car- a limousine- slid up the roads with a very cool exterior and parked at the front entrance at the training Headquarters for the Kabras. The driver rushed out to open the door for them to climb into the car, and they all piled in immediately.

Ian's black and sweat-absorbed vest training top has seeped into the car's atmosphere, filling it with a salty tang of sweat and it was battling against the lemony scent of the limousine. He leaned back and watch the houses passed by through his tinted black window glass.

The houses were all the same in the neat orderly fashion, lined and numbered houses with copper bricks for walls and stringent black tiles for the rules, neat trimmed grass for lawns as if someone had spend their free time cutting it with a small safety scissors, cleaned pavements, cobbled porches and polished street lamps every five yard of the sidewalks. After the long line of perfect little cottages were shops; their windows plastered with colourful and bright posters advertising different sort of products the shops has to offer. This was the least fortunate bit of the town; where the elders lived.

The limousine took a dive deeper into the District of Lucians; combing through the tangles and turns of the District and sooner they arrived at the wealthier bit of the Lucians- the more common and sooner or later they had arrived at Kabra's Manor.

Kabra's Manor was spectacular, in comparison of any mansion you have ever seen. It was designed to be like a castle, thanks to Isabel's keen eye in fashion, the Manor turned out beautifully. White slender walls with rickety roofs and tiles of gray cement, beautiful gardens decorated at the front with blooming red poppies and bright yellow primroses along with bright green ivy vines and lush dark green bushes, the front pavement to the entrance was itself enchanting with big cobbles all stuck to the ground and the font door was a set of double mahogany doors with polished gold handles and the Lucian's coat of arms pinned at the very top of the front entrance, ogling down at passerby who walked through the front door of Kabra's Manor.

One of he best things about being a Kabra was it's luxury; other than his tailor made training required clothing he wore as much an important aristocrat did. From crisp and ironed white collared t-shirts, silk hand-stitched trousers, polished black leather shoes with shiny golden clasp and the symbol of the Kabra coat of arms seared onto the hardened gold metal shining on every single button of his clothing. If the clothing and the size of his manor impressed you, wait till you see the insides.

Ian cocked his head to get another full view of the Kabra's Manor, and rest his head on the headrest of the sleek black seat of the limousine. He gave Natalie a quick, fleeting look and felt a stab of…worry? Doubt? She was determined to go into the Games as if she had something to prove. Prove what? That she had mad knife-throwing skills? Everyone in the district knew that. That she wants to set mommy and daddy's heart alight with pride? Please, Ian knew that no matter how much you grovel his mother's scowl somehow manage to always weasel back onto her face.

He actually felt worried for her. God, he hated petty emotions like this.

The limousine drove into the Kabra's large underground basement that was dug up into the valley of hills where their Manor was located. They walked into the front door, Ian felt his muscles aching all over but he was used to the feeling of being exerted from training. He had been ever since he learned how to talk and walk.

He climbed out of the limousine along with Natalie and his parents behind him, and they entered the Kabra's Manor.

If the exterior of the Manor was grand, the interior was exclusive. Ian took off his polished leather combat boots and hand it to Bickerduff, his own personal butler, and stepped into the Manor. The floors was polished with a shine, reflecting Ian's brisk and lean muscular frame, his slick hair that was soaked with sweat (revolting) and his amber eyes gleaming with it's usual cunning glimmer. Marble, that was the material used for the ground, cream marble with an intricate odd beige pattern curling around; seared into the ground. It was deadly expensive to get marble around here, it was said to be from another country- possibly in Asia- that the Vespers has bombed, killing billions of people.

Ian felt slightly queasy, as if he was trying to envision grenades, atomic bombs and nuclear exploding balls dropping onto the surface of the earth; shattering and breaking down the civilization humans had build and billions of people incinerating into puddles of ashes. It was quite a vivid image but he pushed it out of his mind, why should he care what the Vespers do? All his life he had been trained to fight in Games, fight to win, fight to battle and fight to kill. So why did he felt uneasy?

Things were so appallingly confusing.

Screw emotions; they make you weak.

When you first enter, the large house- maybe the word 'castle' was more fitting- you'll see a long corridor. Wide and long, almost big enough to park a car in it and long enough to be the wedding aisle of a rich Vesper noble. The corridor opened up to the main living area and the vast dining room; the corridor was filled with Lucian and Kabra's Heirlooms, the larger version of the Kabra's Coat of Arms hanging five yards away from a glass cabinet filled with rusty swords and old weapons that belonged to Lucian Nobles. There was also oil painted portraits of Kabras' descendants. The corridor was also filled with lovely oak side tables with large, porcelain lamps on them and silver fancy goblets. Skin peach chaise chairs were place almost every ten yards.

The corridor was set alight by the crystals on the large chandelier, tarnished golden coiled pieces held together delicately along with strings of crystals and jewels, absorbing the essence of light and shining it at different directions. The corridor also had fire post at almost every twenty yards, so during the night when everyone was asleep Bickerduff and the servants would set the post alight and keeping the flame to a small one so it wouldn't set the whole house- Castle- on fire.

Ian didn't bother to take a break at the living room lounge to watch a bit of news to get some insight info on the other Districts' Reapings instead he turned at the left side of the corridor; halfway through and climbed up the stairs along with Natalie.

The stairs was designed in a very archaic style; no not those winding, rickety and ugly steel stairs but a different one; it was very…Renaissance. Marbled steps, golden railings, curved structure and another large chandelier with string diamonds. After making his was up the steps, he crossed the hallway- passing his father's large study and his parent's bedroom and finally settling at his room.

His room was spacious. The walls were pearly white, painted fresh a few weeks ago on his mother's order; the beige walls were getting a bit tacky and then there was his large King-size bed with it's velvety red blankets, soft silky quilts for the duvet and large white fluffy pillows and a big brown teddy bear was hidden under the covers of his bed. He kept it hidden for a reason, if Natalie ever find out about how he still kept Mr. Button…the damage she could do was unimaginable. There was his black beside table with another one of his mother's treasured white lamps with a few books spread out on that table.

A glass desk was sitting at the corner with his silver sleek laptop and a few of his books laid on the desk top, silver and gold framed pictures of him, him and his sister and him with his family- the usual necessities.

He personally likes his bathroom the most; wonderful modern silver framed windows- the molding was spectacular, the lights wasn't a gaudy, huge crystal chandelier- just simple, blinking illuminating golden lights, a few silver railings to hang his towels, there was also a big black graphite tub and the walls and floors were marble, no intricate patterns just fresh and pale white marble.

Bickerduff has already set up his bath, warm water in the black graphite tub and bubbles floating up into the air' filling the warm air with a sweet clove scent. He stripped out of his sweaty clothes, dumped it in the laundry basket and slipped into the warm tub.

Ian soaked in the bath for ten minutes, letting the warmth to envelop him. Bickerduff handed him a new white fluffy towel and Ian wrapped it around his body and then he left the bath. Bickerduff have laid out his Reapings clothes; crisp button up top, an ironed velvet black blazer, tasseled black trousers and polished black clasped shoes with the Kabra's coat of arms on the metal clasp. Ian thought the clothes were more suitable for a funeral, rather than a Reaping of a Cahill Games. "Was it hard for you to pick something more cheerful for the Reapings?" Ian asked irritably when he entered his bedroom again.

Bickerduff bowed, "Of course, young Master Kabra," And Bickerduff proceeded to the cabinet, he replaced the black blazer with a velvet cream white blazer. Ian turned around and found himself right in front of the mirror.

The boy in the mirror had ink black hair, wet from the bath; his face wore a forlorn and tense expression as if he was trying to wait for something shockingly devastating to pass by and his lean muscular body were decorated with past's scars from his raging spars with his father.

He quickly buckled up his trousers, buttoned up his crisp white top, put on his cream white blazer and wore his black polished shoes. After getting dressed, he went down the stairs to join the family for Lunch and after Lunch they'll be going to the Reapings.

The Reapings; he remembered his mother's shrewd gaze and his father's disapproving tone. You thought maybe his parents wouldn't want their kids to participate in the Games because it involved of getting a high chance of getting them killed but no, they supported the idea.

The dining table was easy to describe; he'll describe in three words:

It's big, it's long and it's marble.

Now that was settled, his parents were already sitting on the end of the dining table. Natalie came down at the same time as he did and they joined their parents at the end of the table for Lunch.

The servants were Avoxes; people without tongues. Avoxes used to be citizens from different districts who tried to run away and got caught by the Vespers. For punishment, they had to cut off their tongues to silence them forever and the worse bit that the Avoxes Headquarters were stationed at the Lucian Headquarters, right next to the Lucian training centre and sometimes after Ian had finished off his training when he came out he could hear screams of torture from the victims, yelling out pleads as the Vespers chopped off their pink tongues. It made him slightly uncomfortable but he pushed it out of his mind, he remembered his father's words: Guilt and sympathy make you weak; it'll be your failure and your enemies' victory. It made him feel less pathetic.

Lunch was quiet and cold; not as in the temperature has dropped down but the atmosphere was as frosty as sitting out somewhere in the snow without any clothes on. No one spoke; the only sounds were clangs on forks and knives clashing against the white porcelain plates. Ian focused on his caviar and his bouillabaisse, eating silently as time passed by.

His golden eyes flickered occasionally to his sister Natalie, trying to read her face. She has kept a mask of coolness, her pretty face was twisted in to a polite smile but he knew what she was really thinking: volunteering for the Games. His sister has dressed up in her usual dark classic princess demeanor.

Her lips were maroon red, dark and rich as blood; her eyes lined with kohl, making her amber eyes more exciting than usual, she wore a new dress Isabel had bought for her just last week. The dress was dark red, matching her blood lips. It was a body-hugging dress, a large rose swirled at the left corner of her dress and it reached to her knees. Glittering diamonds sparkled on her necks and her dark hair was pinned up into a vast majority of Victorian curls sitting on her head.

Even though she was smiling and she looked twenty-one instead of thirteen, there's no denying a small flicker of fear in her amber eyes. Ian had no doubt in his sister that she could kill effectively, no doubt at all. She was as competitive as he was, just as driven and tough; she might be a conceited, shallow sister who got way too emotional in his opinion and was bratty and spoiled. But then again she was a predator, her skills with throwing knives was impeccable, she was cunning, manipulative, deceptive and sly. She was trained. But of course there was always the little devil of a question: what if I die?

Ian ignored the sodding bugger in his mind and continued on with his meal.

After the Kabras had finished their meal, they all go into the limousine and went straight for the Victory Building. When they reached the Victory Building, the area was already crawling with people.

Lucians were wealthy, not a single one of them penniless and the poorest clans of Lucians live in community homes that looked like it belonged to a wealthy boarding school.

Parents, grandparents and children alike had attended the Reapings, dressed in festive clothes. If another person from a different era was there, you might've thought they were going to a large celebratory party instead of a gathering held by Vespers planning to pick people to get send to an area where they either kill or killed. You don't really get a choice.

The Victory building was a large silver building; it was made out of steel and glass. If there was one word to describe the entire building, the first word that entered Ian's mind was shiny. The glass made it that way, absorbing sunlight and reflecting it out. It was tall; the building was slender and majestic in that modern, abstract design.

The entrance was an arch of crosses of metal, large glass doors slide open and reveal a long corridor that leads to the Grand Hall where they usually host the Reapings for the Lucian District. Everyone was milling, some parents were tearfully holding on to their kids and some of the teenagers looked eager. Ian knew that they were already dibbing on volunteering; he gave Natalie another half-glance who was purposely avoiding his gaze and thought maybe she wouldn't be in it.

Natalie can't go in the Games. He didn't know why, it was just egging him on like a voice at the back of his mind that a vice like grip is on the thought of letting Natalie go into the Games was frightening. An emotion like worrying.

Oh for the love of God, this was agonizing.

Natalie was bratty, he shouldn't be worried about her, and personally because of how immature she was- freaking out when her personal branded store when out of business- and how emotional she could become…well, the world could easily be better off without her. Okay, maybe that was a bit too much. His sister irritates him, but isn't that what all sisters do?

Once again, he didn't try to give it a second thought.

The Kabras blended in nicely enough throughout a sea of velvet coats, silk dresses, feathered boas and torture devices called high heels; they managed to get through the crowded entrance and into the Hall of Victories.

"They should let us have our own entrance," Natalie snorted under her breath, her lips curled in a disdain sneer as if she had ate something horrible. Her eyes seem to narrowed down on a pair of elderly couple who was dressed in cotton clothing. Ian couldn't help but privately agree.

"Natalie," Her mother chided smoothly, and Natalie wiped her face out of disdain and put on an exterior of cool toughness. Which will break if anyone had treaded on her glittered fingers.

Ian has always admired the Hall of Victories, he always adorned in dark beauty and Natalie has taken his lead. Her fashion colors has blossomed into darker shades; almost everyone she came down the stairs her lips would be smooth down in dark, velvety maroon red and her eyes would be lined with dark kohl.

The Hall of Victories' walls were black, smooth obsidian marble walls with fascinating silver swirls- nothing like many had seen before. Red lush velvet carpeting covered the floor as the lights brighten the exciting atmosphere as Ian felt his spirits rose up, he was considering to be in the Games. Maybe not with Natalie, he can't really think about what it's like to off her.

The walls of the Hall had framed pictures of passed winning tributes, all thirty nine of them. Some were legendary, some were forgettable- like the Ekaterina who won by killing everyone with a tiny piece of wire, a Tomas who fought with a Lucian and won by tearing the Lucian's neck apart with his teeth (Ian was still a little disturbed by that), a Janus who won by hiding secretly and letting the leftover Tributes die by infection and sickness, a Lucian who won the Games by manipulating everyone to believe he was their ally but in the end kill them in a manslaughter and of course, that Madrigal who won a few years back- her name was Nellie- she won by putting on a façade of being timid and shy but when she got into the Games; she was surprisingly ferocious. Ian had to admit for a foolish peace-loving Madrigal; her strategy was a big win. Never ever underestimate the power of underestimation.

The Grand Hall was a large room with spacious white corners and a large glass sky ceiling dome that allowed the hot sun strays to stream in through the glass. A large stage stood in the middle, every inch of the stage covered with red velvet, a large glass bowl stood on a white marbled pedestal that held all of the names for the Reapings.

"Promise me something," He murmured to Natalie as they entered the Grand Hall for their Reapings.

"What?" Natalie asked, sounding vaguely annoyed.

"Don't volunteer for the Games,"

"Why?"

"Just don't," Ian said forcefully, his amber eyes reached into his sister's and it injected almost every moment for the past thirteen years.

"You can't tell me what to do," Natalie hissed, quickly tucking in a lock of loose curls that fell from her pin up curly bun. Her amber eyes were a void of quick flashing anger and Ian could sense danger. "I have to do this for mom and dad, to live up to the Kabra name because you won't do anything and I have to prove-"

"Prove _what, _Natalie?" Ian nearly snarled out loud for the rest of the Lucians to hear, his quick cool demeanor disappeared for a slight moment and his amber eyes flared in large angry bursts of yellow. "How to kill amazingly? Well, you already know how to! And it had been three years; I have nothing to give the Vespers,"

Natalie stepped away from him a bit, sensing the sign of a monsoon like a predator. "Sorry," She muttered, and then she closed her eyes for a moment as the crowds weaved past her. Her eye lids were smothered with black charcoal ash, lined with kohl. "I just want to show that I could do it, I could kill and I could win," She said softly, Ian notice the steel of desperation in her voice. Isabel and Vikram can't be the only people she was trying to impress.

"Just promise me,"

"I can't," She insisted, averting her eyes to the age section where she was supposed to be. "I'm volunteering, and you can't stop me," Ian ground his teeth together, he really did try to care for Natalie but she was being difficult. Tons of children would've been glad_ not _to be in the Games, but Natalie…she was determined.

"Fine," Ian snapped angrily, his fists clenched. Leave it to Natalie to be a stubborn fool, he thought. "Good luck in the Games," He marched off to join the sixteen year old section where he should be.

He quickly joined the area where he was gathered with the rest of the boys; some went to the local school and some went to the comprehensive private school that he went. Their faces set in grim determination; it was always hard to tell who was going to volunteer. It could be grim because they were dreading the Games and they just want to get the Reapings done and over with or they could be preparing themselves to Volunteer.

The room was buzzing with low murmurs of speech, some excited and some horrid. But it cleared up when the escort and the game trainer for the Lucians stepped onto the stage and walked up to center stage to begin the Reapings.

The escort was Nataliya Ruslanova Radova and the trainer for this year was Irina Spasky. The escort was a pretty, mid-twenty Lucian girl dressed in odd Vesper clothes, her long dark hair fixed in a loopy bun and her dress was a flowing, archaic goddess style dress with delicate golden arm bands and circular golden circlet on her head with curls flopping out. Her define features was a slender nose, pursed thin lips and prominent cheekbones. She clasped her hands together, a clap dignifying throughout the hall to make it a point that she was there. Irina's left eye twitch, as if she always founded that clap annoying.

"Welcome, welcome to the 39th Annual Cahill Games," Nataliya chirped falsely and Ian nearly winced at how bright her voice sounded, not that happiness offends him but that it was sickeningly fake that it hurt. "This year will be extra special because it's the year of the Burning Cycle…"

Shit.

Ian cursed mentally in his mind, picking out one of his father's favorite swear words. He forgot it was the Burning Cycle, meaning twice as many tributes or maybe some mental plan made by a Vesper with sociopathic tendencies; scratch that- didn't Vespers all has sociopathic tendencies? Maybe the one who came up with ideas were even more messed up than the lot of them.

His mind lost a bit of concentration when Nataliya went on about the whole history story of how the Cahill Games evolved out of pension for the Rebellion thirty nine years ago, and how the Vespers build out their own capital city and all that greatness. Ian knew the history book page by page; he could recite it out word by word and do so in three other languages. So it was quite a bit daunting to go through it again.

After Nataliya had finished her speech on the Vespers and the Games' history; she moved on and explained the themes of this year's Games. "For the Burning Cycle, this year we'll have siblings as tributes to fight to the death and we'll also be doubling up the numbers as usual…" Nataliya's words seem to be trailed off as Ian tried to gather up the last few words he heard.

_Siblings fight to the death. Double up numbers as usual. _

He did mention that Vespers tend to have sociopathic tendencies, right? It was maddening, trying to square the idea of going against his kin. Fighting Natalie…will be scary, admittedly so. He always didn't care much for the Games, he felt slightly disturbed for the brutality but this was going a bit too far.

Siblings were siblings, they fought, they scream, they fight with each other all the time like there was some sort of invisible competition between siblings for affection or attention from their parents. It was normal for that to happen, but in the end they truly _do _love each other. He should know, half of the time it was always a competition between Natalie and Ian. Of course he always won but he couldn't imagine going heads to heads and truly fight Natalie to the death.

Nataliya had wrapped up explaining the new theme for this year's Burning Cycle; Ian caught Natalie's face in the midst of thirteen year old girls. She looked positively terrified and ridiculous in that red dress but she was doing her best to hide her fear.

Irina came up and explained in a vague accent about how pleased she was to be here, she ended it with a typical, "May the odds be ever in your favor!"

"Now to pick our tributes…" Nataliya cleared her throat, diverting the attention of the crowd back to her. Her dark curls swung around her face like mad vines gone mental.

Nataliya's fingers reached into the bowl, her slender long slim fingers clenched around a piece of paper and she withdrew her arm out of the bowl. Nataliya spread open the piece of paper and began to speak the name of the first pair of siblings for the Games but she was interrupt by a familiar voice down the end of the hall.

"I volunteer!"

It was Natalie.

* * *

**Right. **

**That was absolutely horrid. I'm sorry, I apologize for that horrible chapter. I was in a rush, I was trying to beat my 6,000 word count, I was trying to finish my homework (year 8 completely sucks), I put my novel on hold for you guys, I have no goddamn clue on how to write Ian Kabra (almost as complicated as Ferret Draco Malfoy), I had other fics to finished on my other account and I had homework. **

**But next chapter will be good, brilliant. I swear. I kept wincing at the slow and monotous tone I'm writing this. Taking a crack at the sarcasm...didn't work. I was wincing...I might redo this chapter someday. One day when I'm not running around like a madwoman. **

**I'm not God nor Apollo, or whoever was the Greek God of writing. **

**Obviously, but I am still the Queen. **

**Reviews are lovely, you might make this year slightly less suck-ish. I need to write my novel. NOW. I don't guarantee updates will be frequent...**

**However, ta ta!**

**-Queen. **


	3. The Other One Lives

**As freaking usual, I don't own 39 clues nor the Hunger Games which is sad. **

**However I think the perfect theme song for Dan at the moment is: I won't bow by Breaking Benjamin because of his old stubborn ways on the Vespers and the Games. **

Chapter 3

The Other One Lives

Dan Cahill could literally feel his blood froze in his body once he heard his name was being called.

He felt his fingers shook as everyone turned their eyes towards him in the crowd and immediately Dan could feel the pressure of their gazes forcing him to walk up onto that podium so that they could show him off as a prize of Vespers.

Dan felt the vein by his neck twitched, nerves were poking fun at him making him squirm uncomfortably in his spot as he forced his legs that has turned in lead to move forward out onto the stage while trying not to show his shaky fingers and kept his anger down to a bare minimum so he wouldn't scream and shout.

He always have hated the Games for their cruelness and brutality but he remained hostile terms with the Games as long as it doesn't involved anybody or anybody Amy cared about. And he was clenching his fists when he heard about the siblings, but it went too far when it involved him and his sister. As much as they fought and argue some of the times, he does care for her- he was annoying, not inhuman. Even if she was embarrassing to be in public with, all her stuttering and blushing around crowds, her completely noticeable blasphemous crush on Jake and her attitude of being a love-struck, gaga hormone feeling girl was rather irritating but she was still unfortunately his sister.

So he managed not to stumble upon his legs on his way to the podium, the entire field was extremely tense and quiet you can hear a pin drop. He was nervous as Amy tried to take hold of his hand; her fingers were cold and shaky, clammy with fright. He always admire that about her, even when she's terrified she still go out of her way to make sure he's okay. And he felt a little better with her trembling hand wrapped around his for reassurance; not that he ever would tell her that of course.

He made his way to the centre stage he caught Nellie Gomez's dark brown eyes. They were filled with pity as if she was mentally grimacing at sending two more kids to their deaths. Dan felt his chest tightened, he hated pity and he shall give no one any idea that he was afraid. "Amy and Dan Cahill, District Madrigal!" Mr. McIntyre introduce in a flat tone, his hand gesturing at them when they took centre stage.

No one clapped.

They just stared.

And stared.

Dan grew uncomfortable under their penetrating gaze, as if they couldn't believe the charismatic Dan Cahill was going to be sent off to his death and have no hope of ever winning the Games. The smell of pity in the air was nauseating it nearly made him choke. Thanks for moral support, Dan thought dryly. He caught sight of Atticus, his dark eyes weren't complacent with pity instead it was shrouded with hatred as if he could he would destroy the Vespers singlehandedly for picking his best friend and his best friend's sister to be in the Games.

There was a large TV camera rolling, recording their moment and zooming into their faces; Dan had never really seen one of those machines before but he saw that it was a silver device with a large glass round screen. It looked much bigger in real life and he doubt that anyone was now watching the Reapings for District Madrigal.

"This year's tributes…" Mr. McIntyre introduce in a morose tone, as if he was reading his obituary rather than an announcement for the Reapings though the comparison was very close to the truth. Dan could see his own gravestone reading now; it would read:

Daniel Arthur Cahill, awesome and handsome guy.

13 Years Old

Died in 39th Annual Hunger Games as a Madrigal Tribute.

Damn, that was depressing.

The Vespers were sick, sadistic people and he could sum up the other four districts in less than a minute. Amy would've gone into details, describing each district within agonizing detail- lush fields and huge mansions for the Lucians, a training army camp for the Tomas, a high tech Metropolitan for the Ekaterina, and a town painted red for the Janus and all that useless shit.

Mind his language, if you have a problem well too bad. Dan was in a foul, revolting mood. Three guesses why?

He wasn't any nicer to the Guard-watchers as they hassled him down the podium from the prying eyes of the district and into the Victory Building.

However, the other districts to him was described like this: Lucians were sadistic bastards with cunning minds, Tomas were idiotic bimbos who have mindless intentions of gutting humans, Ekaterinas were snooty smart people who act like they have a stick up their ass, Janus were arrogant people who think they're superior and whatnot and the Madrigals were peace-loving fools who's fun idea was to hold hands and sing Kumbaya round the campfire. Dan had no intentions of turning out like any of them.

Dan didn't want to bore people with details so he would describe the Victory Justice as the only decent building in the entire District, it was large and shiny and it also held together unlike some other run down houses around the area.

The Guard-watchers led them into the Victory Building, through the entrance of the building and down the hallway. Dan realized that Amy's fingers was still curled around his, he gave a sideway glance to see how she was holding on. It must have been hard for her, Dan thought, to have the worst of her nightmares come true. But by Amy standards, she was doing good- no hysterical sobbing yet.

Her doe-shaped jade eyes were red-rimmed, gentle tears stream down her tears as they trudge forward down the hall.

Amy gripped his fingers even tighter when the Guard-watchers pushed her to another room, "But h-he has to come with me," Amy argued with the Guard-watchers as Dan felt one of them pushed him forward.

"You'll have to be in separate rooms," One of the guards said gruffly, his lips barely moving and his posture stiff like he had a stick up his ass. Dan's eyes flashed as they pushed Amy harder into the other room, her jade eyes were filled with sorrow as one of the guards slammed the door shut. "Move, boy," The guard who spoke earlier jabbed him hard on the small of his back, nearly making him jumped a good five feet up into the air.

Dan wanted to say something completely smart-ass-y, like: well, I have a name you know- you just heard it being called in the Reaping but unfortunately you don't have enough brain cells to digest that. But he knew it was going to just earn him another prod at the small of his back.

They led him to another sharp turn in the hallway and led him to another secluded room, Dan thought glumly as they slammed the door shut behind him. The room was dull, peeling gray walls, dimmed lighting and creaky wooden floorboards. Two velvet couches was pushed back at the corner of the room, he sat on one of those couches and ran his hands all over the velvet material. It was smooth, and cold. Dan had never touched the material before but it felt odd; like it was supposed to be warm and comforting but it wasn't.

The door burst open again and came in a hassled-looking Atticus Rosenbloom. Dan braced himself for the self-pity embracement, but it didn't came instead Atticus said sharply, "How's Amy?"

"She's okay, much better than I thought," Dan replied immediately, grateful that Atticus knew him well enough.

"You'll be fine," Atticus said immediately as Dan stared broodingly at the floor when Atticus spoke up. "I mean you can fight, Amy can shoot- and you know this survival things, skills," Atticus explained all in one breath as Dan got up from his seat, his feet getting restless.

"But it doesn't changes anything," Dan muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers as he paced. "It's either Amy or me dies, and did they mention that there'll be twenty and only one comes out?" Dan nearly yelled the last bit at Atticus, he was furious.

He couldn't do anything to save himself or his sister, there was no fight or rebellion against the Vespers; it was a massacre. Feeling hopeless wasn't Dan's forte; he usually had it together, like a piece of a puzzle of a math problem but…now it feels like there's no sum to the equation.

It made him feel trapped. He hated being contained, Amy was afraid of fire but Dan hated being contained, especially in enclosed places. It made it feel like the air was being squashed out of him. "Dan," Atticus spoke up quietly as his friends aimed a heartfelt, angst-filled kick at the chair and only received glaring pain on his ankle back in return.

Dan swore angrily under his breath when the pain expectedly shot up his leg, "Hey, look," Atticus mumbled as his best friend limped back towards the chair and sat down grouchily. "Take this for a token," Atticus handed him a small card, and Dan gripped it tightly as Atticus handed it to him.

The card was as small as the palm of his hand, it was decorated in gold and a picture of a famous old baseball player was printed in the card and Dan noticed it was one of Atticus's most prized possession: his favorite baseball card. Dan was wonderstruck when he surveyed it, "But…this was your favorite, At,"

Atticus smiled humorlessly, "Take it to the Games with you, if you die- well you die with honor," He tapped the card that was sitting nicely and comfortably in the palms of his hand. Dan smirked a little. Trust Atticus to say that a baseball card is an 'honor'.

"Thanks," Dan whispered the little word and the conversation ended abruptly by the Guard-watchers swing the door open, stomping their way and asking- ordering Atticus to leave and apparently there was no more visitors, what have he been expecting really; Aunt Beatrice to wrapped him in a warm-hearted embrace?

So the just led him out of the room, Amy joined him from the other rooms with her face tear strained and her hands curled around something her neck, Dan caught a quick glance of it when she uses both hands to rubbed the salty tears away from her face. It was a jade green dragon talisman, silver metal coils curled around the crafted green stone and it brought Amy eyes out. It must have cost a fortune, Dan thought, he wondered where Amy got it.

They led them out of the Victory building, and then they marched through the entire town square with the rest of town's eyes staring at them, Dan might have probably lost the chance of living a long prosperous life (hence the sarcasm) but he hasn't lost his pride to stomped out with his head held high.

Atticus and Jake was at the front of the crowd, Atticus's brown eyes were misty, his dreadlocks hung loosely around his shoulders as he cocked his head up to meet Dan's eyes; it was probably the last sight of Atticus Dan could catch. The dark abyss inside him stirred again, sucking every happy thought in him into the black hole. Wow, he was dramatic.

They arrived at a broken train-station, not necessarily broken but just- untamed. The train station was old and rusty with rubble and debris gathering around the old rundown building, the railroads were rusty and some of the metal lines were broken. A large shiny Vesper train stood on those rusty metals; the Vesper coat of arms gleamed in the sunlight, the train was a large hunk of metal set on wheels.

Nellie Gomez, the Madrigals only victor, was waiting for them; her dark hair was streak with blonde and red and stood out in the station with her colorful head. She wore ripped jeans, a loud red t-shirt, black lace up boots and a leather jacket, a loose dagger hung by the belt of her jeans. She was leaning against a dirty pole, picking her nails aimlessly with her dagger. Dan felt slightly intimidated by the tough twenty years old victor, but her brown eyes were welcoming as they walked towards the train.

She noticed them and sized them up when they were right in front of her, "Well, you two look like you at least have a chance," She shrugged as she climbed aboard the train. They followed her and their mouths nearly fell from their faces when they saw the inside of the cart.

Dan's head was still reeling, in the pockets of his trousers he could still feel the warmth of the baseball card searing into his thigh but he thought about Gomez's words: You two look like you have a chance. He tried to square at the thought; he knew how to hunt and he fought pretty well with dual swords if he say so himself. And he and Amy thought themselves survival skills; they weren't completely hopeless when it comes to survival. Amy with her bow and arrows, and him with his dual swords. But it didn't change one thing: it was either Amy or Dan. The rules clearly state only one lives.

"Wow," Amy whispered, her eyes were still red but she was no longer in tears. He looked up and his eyes widened at the sight that was in front of him.

Inside of the silver hunk of a train was richly supplied with couches, deep blue as royal blood and plush couches; the wood for some of the furniture weren't weak, pliable and coarse wood instead it was stringent, painted in dark, oak brown. Silver platters of large, sugared donuts, fat, juicy pieces of meat and large, buttery rolls of honey bread; all these laid out in front of them.

"That's mahogany," Amy said, sharing this bit of useless information as her calloused delicate fingers stroke the wooden table.

"Do we need to know, Ames?" Dan asked irritably, he didn't meant to be snappy- he wasn't in the mood to know the interesting types of wood. Key word of sarcasm: interesting.

The train's interior was abundantly supplied, Dan and Amy was staring at a modern thin box with such curiosity and then the front screen zapped and an image of a talking woman appeared, as if speaking to them directly. "That's a t-television!" Her mouth kept opening and closing like a gaping fish, her green eyes large and wide as if has dilated pupils.

"Great, the stupid Vesper government is electing people again," Gomez complained, she had her feet propped on one of the arms on one of the royal blue couches, her body draped all over it and she was snacking over a plate of blood red strawberries. The way in which she was lying on the couch, slowly eating the strawberries lazily was like as if she was king. The sight that she was no sweating over everything while he was sweating over trying to stay alive and kill his sister- the sight nearly made his blood boil. "Stupid government," Nellie said, taking a slim black box and pressed on one of the small little colorful buttons and made the talking lady disappeared in a quick second.

Mr. McIntyre came in, his crisp suit was wrinkled around the edges and he looked relatively stress; he entered the living room cart and sat down on one of those couches, next to Nellie and facing them. His harden eyes soften for a moment when he saw their scared faces, Dan hoped that the fear he felt wasn't broadcasted too obvious for everyone to see. 'I'm sorry this happens to you," He said in a clipped, Vesper accent; his tone was still a monotone but he let out a hint of pity into his voice. "Sit," He gestured at the plush couches behind them, they sat awkwardly on the same couches and await further instructions.

"Well, they look better than last year's," Gomez shrugged indefinitely, as she dragged her legs down and sat up. Her lips was dripping with red juice from the strawberries, her colorful hair messier than usual and she wore a stiff, forlorn expression.

"Shouldn't we be getting started?" Dan interrupted, his nerves was getting ahead of him.

Gomez arched an eyebrow at him, "So eager," She muttered, running her hands through her hair- not in an I'm so great but in a this is so freaking screwed up. "Listen, you two look like nice kids," She reached for one of the strawberries on the platter. "And I'm not going to tell you lies about the Games, and as much as I like to sugarcoat it so you can sleep peacefully tonight I don't want you to walk into the arena blindly and get murder in the bloodbath," Gomez said with such finality even Mr. McIntyre was paying attention to her.

"So y-you will help us?" Amy questioned nervously, playing with the green dragon talisman again.

Gomez didn't answer, she just took another strawberry from the platter and stared at them hard with her brown eyes. They were usually filled with mischief, he had stared in those eyes three times; during the other times of Amy's previous Reapings and now those eyes were filled with something darker. "Eat up," Mr. McIntyre passed them plates that were filled with rich and expensive food.

His stomach gurgled slightly at the sight of the greasy slab of meat, the buttery warm roll of bread and the sweet powdered jam donuts all laid in front of him; how long since they had that nice meal in the woods? Whatever, Dan thought as he dug into his meal; he tore the meat into chunky pieces and stuffed it into his mouth. The heat burned his tongue; it hurt but he didn't care as the salty gravy trickled down his throat, he munched on the honey bread and finished up the jam donuts in less than two minutes.

When he finally came up for air, he felt like he ate too much. As much as he liked being watered and fed, he instantly missed the food at home- if you call a place where you are living with a wretched old hag named Bitch-trice. Or was it Beatrice? Eh, it wasn't much of a different, to be honest.

God, he even missed the way how Jake would complain how his snares were completely set up in a wrong position, or Amy's irritating blushing when she was around Jake or whenever Atticus and him had tree-climbing competitions (he always win, of course). There was nothing wrong with the food (Food can never be wrong, well unless if it's Aunt Bitch-trice's boiled Brussels sprouts), it's just…it was too rich, it was not fried crunchy rabbits or dull weak little raw carrots plucked from the ground and frankly, he preferred that anytime.

Amy kept sending him exasperated glances at his horrid table manners while Gomez has started speaking again, "Listen kiddos," She took a bite out of her jam donut, "Killing isn't the only way to win,"

Amy and Dan now look at her with newfound interest as Gomez- perhaps he should start referring her as 'Nellie'; because Gomez sounded as if they were enemies- spread butter all over the donut with her dagger, she used her finger to wiped off the remaining butter and licked it off her finger, "What d-do you mean?" Amy asked, her eyes wide.

"The chances of you actually killing a tribute is reduced only for the top tributes meaning the Vespers and District Lucian and Tomas, and also if you have reached up to the top three assuming if you're still alive," Nellie explained, watching their faces carefully. So he didn't really have to rely on killing of all those tributes, the thought made him feel slightly better. "This year is special, we have siblings against each other- we have rounded twelve as you already know,"

Mr. McIntyre pitched in, continuing on for her as Nellie finished up her jam donuts, "As much as we don't like to scare you, this year's competition is known as the bloodiest ever," He said softly, watching them slowly as if expecting them to burst into hysterical sobs. Dan knew that would never ever happen to him, he took a fateful glance at Amy who was holding it all together and let out a trembling sigh. "This year they'll put a whole knew meaning to sibling rivalry and they're adding super trained Vespers to fight you, the best and Careers against you,"

Nellie stretched a little, "I'm so glad I'm not in this year's Games," She said insensitively and Mr. McIntyre shot her an antagonizing glare; Dan felt a little miffed at that comment then she let out a sigh, "Sorry, kiddos but look the best way to win especially for you two is to stay out of the bloody game,"

"What?" Dan questioned, how could you stay out of the Games when you really didn't have much of a choice of choosing what you want to do with the Games?

"I t-think she meant by laying low," Amy said softly to him, pressing his knuckles together.

"She's right," Nellie offered as some of the Avoxes came to clear the dishes, Dan could felt their soulless eyes stared at him as they took away his half eaten plate of honey bread when he decided he couldn't eat anymore. Avoxes creep the absolute hell out of him; it was even creepier when they opened their mouth and you can see the chopped tongue. Jesus, they used to give him nightmares. "I advice you to grab a pack, a weapon if you're lucky but the main idea is run like hell, do not look back- just run into the woods and grab as much cover as you can, avoid the Careers and the Vespers.

"It'll be a freaking bloodbath out there, avoid it- and don't ever be as much as an idiot to light a large fire; it'll be like sending a flare to the Vespers and Careers: Hello, I'm right here! Please rearrange my face and tear my heart out! Light a small one if you really need it like when you're freezing your ass out there, next set up places near a source of water; never mind food- water is your best friend in the Games." Nellie took another deep breath. Dan tried his best to list all the important bullet points in her advice. So far the points were:

-No big fire, light a small one when you really do need one.

-Get a bag pack and weapon (if possible) and run like you're on fire into the woods.

-Find cover immediately.

-Set up camp near a source of water

So far the advice Nellie had given was far from what he imagined you had to do to stay alive; killing was one way but learning how to survive- basic skills when you're stuck in a warzone like: avoiding fires, finding cover and setting up camp near sources of water. And he was a hunter, and so was Amy. If God was forgiving on the days during the Games, maybe they can both come out alive.

But that was wishful thinking and it foolish to dwell on false hopes because there was no way the Vespers could ever spare their lives, only one can live right? And what sort of fool would dwell on hopes like that?

People who can love, his brain told him, it was why he hasn't lost his sanity to the cruelty of the Vespers. What was that quote Amy had gotten from a book or some sort? She shared it with him whenever he sobbed shamelessly when he was younger, he would curled up on her lap and she would held him tight, singing a lullaby in an off-note key and she would tell him, Promise me you'll never succumb to darkness, Dan. Dan knew what she was talking about, it had been a few weeks since the Tolliver family had hung themselves to avoid the games, you're the only family I have left; always keep hoping and keep going on no matter what even if I'm not here anymore because hope is the only thing more powerful than fear.

He felt a chill go down his spine when he thought about it, hope- the soul of the human spirit- was the only thin enough to empower hope.

"But you know how to really win, kiddos?" Nellie asked with a humorless smile as she took her dagger out again and begins picking the dry, dead skin off her fingers. "You get people to like you,"

"W-what?" Amy stuttered, Dan knew she was shaking in the inside and was reeled at the news. Amy always have problems making friends because of her stumbling shyness; if she had a problem trying to ask the Cool Crowd if she could sit with them for lunch he tried to imagine how bad it will be for her trying to charm the entire nation.

"So it's some sort of popularity contest with the killing other people for a bonus?" Dan mused aloud, Nellie smirked slightly; because of how true the statement sound while Amy shot him a contemptuous glare.

"Dan, this is serious!" She said fiercely without stuttering, "T-this is between life and d-death!" _Well, it was good when it lasted…for about five seconds. _

But on the other hand he wouldn't have a problem if the Games were more or less a popularity contest with action for kicks. He was funny, sarcastic and quick with his words; so his chances of living looked a little lighter.

"When you're starving or dying from intense thirst; you can get sponsors to sent you food or water, even a box of match can literally means life or death," Nellie responded, "And people who usually gets sponsors are Careers, it's usually Careers but it mostly depends on how you do on your evaluation with the Game-makers,"

"So sponsors are important?" Dan asked.

"Yep, if you got all chopped up or badly injured sometimes they also can send you medication, kiddo," Dan watched as Amy's eyes twitched at the 'kiddo' bit, but he can tell her mind was spinning.

"No wonder the Careers win all the time if they get most donors from sponsors," Dan grumbled. Nellie cracked a smile; she stretched as she stood up from her seat.

Amy sat silently in her seat, her eyes glassy and her face pale but she had been looking like that for a while. Her small pink lips pursed as if she was trying to avoid chewing her tongue.

"We're almost as the Capitol," Mr. McIntyre announced as he straightened up his suit, "Make sure you look good,"

Suddenly Dan felt self-conscious, he quickly reached up to his hair and did his best to flatten but no satisfactory results coming out of it. Amy was fixing her green dress and combing through her red hair in a perfunctory haste, and then she went to him and fussing him with his collar to make them vicariously presentable.

"Smile for the Vespers," Dan drawled sarcastically, and it almost felt good to laugh at that moment even if he knew that he was already rolling in his grave. Amy laughed a little, as her jade eyes twinkled breaking the glassy gaze in her eyes. She stood up and walked over to the window, peering as she sat down at one of the the glass windows that opened up the views of green mountains and lush bushes, passing by Districts in a quick flash. Dan grew restless as the train passed through tunnels and finding it's way through the different cross sections of and turns of the train track. He kept pacing, he thought back to his little District Madrigal where he was born and raised, Atticus and Jake might be in the forest, setting up snares for food and discussing in grave tones of voices about what could happen to them.

Nellie sighed, "I so miss the Capitol," Nellie tied up her colorful hair and buckled up her dagger belt. She grinned cheerfully at Dan before bouncing off to one of the compartments down the dark hallway of the train to get something.

Mr. McIntyre's face remained solemn; his face could've been mixed emotions of feeling antagonized and secretly jumping up and down, squealing like a little girl. He was standing near the door where they entered from, two Avoxes stood side by side at the doors. Their faces bleak and pale, their stances silent and demeaning; their red and black groomed uniforms was more well-tailored than Dan's fanciest linen cloth t-shirt.

It started as Amy leaning into the window, squinting in the distance as they passed through a clearing between two valleys; and she saw the small gray outline of what looks like the tip of skyscrapers she seen in postcards of the Capitol. She wasn't sure at first but when they got closer she let out a large sigh at the breathtaking sight. "Dan!" She urged him, "Look, it's the C-Capitol!"

Dan reluctantly came running to her and peeked out the window to gaze at the amazing silver buildings, gleaming with magnificence and beaming at them with arrogant flairs. Dan had to admit, the Vespers were evil but they sure had an eye for architecture. That was the only good thing he had to say about them. "It's beautiful," She said grudgingly while Dan kept quiet.

So far the only thing he could focus in is the Games. But he was amazed by how Amy was holding it in, but he bet that she was worrying her ass off about the Games and he knew what she was thinking; who was going to live?

Well, to be realistic they'll most probably be dead.

He stand back straight, "Well, it's nice enough," Dan joked, "For them," She shook her head in amusement, the corners of her mouth tilting into a small smile before Nellie abruptly interrupt the sweet moment.

"Come on; almost time to go kiddos," Nellie said as they passed through one of the tunnels and they entered through a high ramp at the height of at the top of the skyscrapers.

"This is brilliant," Dan murmured in awe as they got a close-up view of all the modern buildings. People in funny clothes walked on the clean, cement pavements; the clean streets was packed with different colored automobiles and every now and then there will be a long pole with a large black board that could flashed colors like red and green. Dan and Amy was ogling at every single object in the Capitol with some sort of curious fascination while Nellie and Mr. McIntyre traded amused expressions as if they had seen lots of kids ogled at the Capitol all the time and yet this one is no less than one of them.

"Dude, kiddos," Nellie waved her ringed fingers in front of their faces, jerking them out of their staring at the Capitol. "Let's go," She prodded Amy on the shoulder who suddenly gripped Dan's fingers as they inched towards the door. Dan could feel the train slowing down, stopping at the Capitol's Station. Mr. McIntyre ushered them towards the front entrance to get ready for the building crowd to catch a glimpse of the Madrigals' tributes.

The front panels use for doors slid open, revealing their faces to flashes of bright lights and Dan was temporarily blinded; as the flashing stopped as his eyes try to adjust back to normal as they were led out of the train and into the Capitol. "Smile," Amy whispered towards him, nudging him on the shoulder as he realize he was actually scowling and fixed it to a fake smile as they took photographs of them.

Another one of the Capitol's large rolling camera was focused on them, showing them off for the world to watch.

* * *

**Not as long as my usual chaps... :( However, I do hope you did enjoy that one but I'm sorry for the long wait...I had laptop problems to fix and now I have a new one! YAY! So I will be updating a bit faster from now on...hopefully. **

**Things I need to clarify:**

**Okay so one of the Anon reviewers was like: It suck because it's too long, well I'm sorry if you can't read long stuff because I'm adamant on having long chapters...why? Because I hate half-written, half-effort story. It took me days to finished this one off; you better feel pretty damn appreciated. This is only five thousand or so words; the others are six thousand. I'm writing a novel at the moment (which is now off Hiatus now I have a perfectly working laptop) and for three chapters; my word count is around...approximately 17, 000 words. **

**I have high standards on length, deal with it. **

**Next, the language is a bit more darker or vulgar than the series (39 clues one) because it IS the Cahill Games and it IS rated T but I'm not going to literally swear because I know some might be uncomfortable with it. Also, this is set in the future so if seven years olds swear in front of me in the 21st Century...imagine what it would be like later on? 0.o**

**And I know Dan is uncharacteristically angsty. What sort of teenager boy isn't? (cough Harry P in Order of Phoenix cough) He IS thirteen and as far as I recalled he wasn't a sweet little angel in the second series (cough drinking serum cough). So too sodding bad if you don't like it. **

**So sodding sorry if any of the characters were OOC; I tried to put them as closely to the books as possible and yet mixed the trauma and sadness they had to deal with it because of the games and living under the rules of the Vespers...not a piece of cake, I can reassure you. **

**Love and hate (for the flamers, if any BRING IT ON!)**

**Ta-ta!**

**-Queen**


	4. Not Good Enough

**Oh god, I'm just so sorry for the long wait. Anyway, the point is the reason why it had been so late is because I'm researching and typing my novel at the moment so things have been taxing along with school work and a bunch of other crap I rather not think about. After all, the holidays are dawning on me so I'm free for like a week or two to write a lot more. **

**My novel is steady, I written two chapters and is coming up with the third one. Researching and plotting is essential, my parents thinks I'm crazy and wishes me luck when I told them I'm trying to fit in ALL mythologies into it. It's going be hard, especially with the amount of research I need to do. I know Greek, a bit of Roman and Egyptian but I still need: Norse, Indian, Chinese, Etruscan and Neo-paganism (whatever the hell that means). Also creatures such as vampires and werewolves and also alchemists because of the whole story centres about them so I need to do my homework on science history. Busy, busy. **

**After all, I will still be continuing on the story no matter what despite the workload. So don't need to worry just keeps the constructive feedback and reviews coming. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the 39 clues or the Hungers Games; well at least the basic plotline of it. **

Chapter 4

Not Good Enough

Natalie Kabra could taste the sweet flavor of success already on her tongue; she had her assets and she _wasn't _afraid of anything. She would not loose, she_ can't_ lose.

Natalie was eager to find out and gather as much knowledge from her trainer; she glance softly at Ian and for a fleeting moment she was concerned then she squashed it down in less than a second.

She avoided his furious amber eyes; she knew that he was trying to resist the temptation to throttle her for getting him involved. Oops.

It wasn't just her parents pressuring her, even though they necessarily didn't tell her directly she had to do it. Like, _oh sweetheart you need to volunteer for the Games or not we'll disown you _and so on but she can sense it between the lines that they want her to. She wasn't an idiot, or not what was the point of training so hard and going through all that for preparation?

But she was disappointed the minute her trainer spoke the first line.

"So you're volunteers?" Irina Spasky, the District Lucian champion, spoke in a distinct accent Natalie wasn't able to identify. Spasky's cold blue eyes bore into the back of Natalie's amber eyes; the ferocity of those cold blue eyes could easily send anyone running but not Natalie (_never _Natalie), instead she glared with equal ferocity.

"Obviously," Ian said sulkily, shooting acid glares repeatedly at Natalie. Naturally, she ignored him. Ian was in a bad mood, she knew better than to aggravate him right now.

Irina narrowed her eyes before settling down on a chair opposite them, and an uncomfortable silence lodge between them. Natalie felt annoyed when Irina kept quiet all the time, despites Ian's angry stares (honestly, she wasn't going to say anything now) she thought Irina was being rather cold, not giving them information immediately so they know what to work on.

It didn't hurt to be ready.

She was strong enough to win, but you never know the enemies.

"Well?" Natalie demanded, breaking the silence. Her fingers clenching tight into fists as she stared down the blonde. "Aren't you going to tell us anything?"

Irina curled around her silver chalice and brought it to her pale pink lips, "Eat," She invited- more like ordered- them to do so, spreading her arms wide and gestured to the ginormous food selection lay out in front of them on the ebony table.

The Lucian train was a large, gold hunk of metal sealed together and set on wheels so it could move; inside it was tainted with gold and silver carpeting and ebony and ash wood tables and legs of chairs, gold platters of food stacked everywhere and at the moment they were sitting on a long ebony dining table. Ian was slowly eating his pheasant, Irina was attacking her slim cooked salmon while Natalie slowly ate her plums, the sweet juice dribbled into her tongue and the purple color stained her lips; making it darker than before.

"Well," Ian pointed out and she nearly smiled, _straight to the point; brother. _

"Well what?" Irina barked out harshly, a sound almost loud enough to rattle the gold cutlery lay out in perfect formation that Natalie had memorized so coolly when she was five.

"Information," Natalie said crudely, her amber eyes flashing. Her heart thumping madly and angrily as Irina shrugged lazily, her fingers curled around the knife she used to skin her pears. "You're going to tell us how to win this, how to find shelter and such,"

"Later, eat first," Irina said shrewdly, and use a hunting knife to stab into fish. Natalie's anger was reaching its breaking point as she tried to cool down. She wanted to live, thank you very much.

"But why not?" Ian frowned, his eyebrows knitted like every time he knew he made a valid point in an argument.

Natalie felt her blood boil, her temples bouncing after what her supposed best friend Sophie Watson had said to her earlier in the Reaping, taunting her about how she wasn't brave enough to volunteer and now she did; she'll use all her wits to shut Sophie up that she could win at the age of thirteen and this…this wasn't helping. "Give us ways on how to win, idiot!" She snarled, standing up and kicking her chair out of the way as she used her peeling knife and stabbed it down onto the table, driving the knife deep into the ebony as the Lucian's escort Nataliya walked into the living room compartment and gasped when she saw the knife in the table and the chair strewn apart.

"That's ebony!" Nataliya choked out as her unnaturally pale face stretched out in horror while Ian just cocked his head in amusement- Natalie's temper was always fun to see blow up (though it depends on what position you're in, if you're the person she's blowing up at then…well, she's scary) - as Natalie seethed and for the jokes, she pulled the knife out and slammed it on the table.

Natalie could barely contain her anger, can't they see that she needs to prepare _now?! _Or not showing up Sophie's stupid smug face that she was good enough- powerful enough to kill? And by Nataliya's horrid fashion sense, she would do this!

"We're all trying to survive in the Games and if you're not going to help then forget it!" Natalie stormed away, she marched off away from the table and clenched her fists; her face away from the stares of other people as quick tears started to stream down and she punched her digits onto the buttons, the living compartment door slid open and led her to a corridor.

She wiped the tears furiously as Ian followed her into the corridor, gasping breaths not able to reach down her lungs. Sophie's word echoed right in her ear: _Are you going to volunteer? I guess not, Ian didn't- I bet you'll be scared like him. _The words did hit her like ice prickles against her skin. She lost it completely. For sod's sake, she was Natalie _sodding _Kabra! A _Kabra _does not sob, or cry or slammed knives into ebony dining tables! But the panic of dying and killing Ian- as annoying as he is- had overwhelmed her. She couldn't be delicate anymore, she need to harden up and put on a face of hostility so she wouldn't be able to break through. God, this was what Ian was good at! He was brilliant on putting on fake emotions or hardened barriers so they would not be penetrated by enemies. She would not let Sophie Sodding Watson get under her skin.

_Too late, you volunteered already? _A snide Voice of Doom echoed in her voice. Natalie swore that in her brain that was a doom generator in a part of her brain where the Voice of Doom was located, always taking part when she really didn't want to hear it.

"Nat, are you okay?" Ian asked, his voice filled with concern as her heart tugged bitterly. The stoic queen standing straight as tall, her cheeks was wet but she still held her head up high with her back against him, she tried to sound like her normal self without stuttering like a fumbling fool.

"I'm fine," She replied in a clipped, hostile tone and Ian's eyebrows knitted again; he could sense the trace of hurt emotion in her voice as she tried to sniffed inaudibly.

The corridor wasn't a long and winding one like those at the Victory Building in the Lucian District, it was a small one and it was tailored with fine, rich red velvet walls and fine gold carpeting, two metal steel doors faced each other as Natalie went to the one with her name carved into it. She punched the open button on the left side of the control pane right next to the door before turning back so her face could be seen by Ian and he was shocked to see it tear strained and covered in mascara. "I'm perfectly goddamn fine," She drawled and stepped into the room before he could say another word.

The door slid back shut and she gaze down on her room as she wiped out her wet cheeks dry in perfunctory haste. She prayed that this wasn't filmed all over the world; she would never live it down if she cried in front of the entire nation.

The room was nice, but it didn't have much space which make sense because it was a train after all. The room was coated with dark red carpeting, there was a single bed with a white pillow and a bed with red sheets but it looked lonely, Natalie wondered how many people had been here before she came- probably about thirty nine people and she knew that not all of them made it.

She was not planning to be one of them.

A plain ebony desk lay at a tight, secluded corner and a cabinet and a drawer stood at another. Another door led to a bathroom was facing opposite the bed, Natalie prodded carefully to the cabinet and the drawer on her high heels she wore to the Reapings of what seem ages ago but she felt no pain on her toes; she was used to it.

She kicked off her shoes and placed them on top of the drawer, dumping them on the top and sitting on the bed so she can rub her aching red feet. She took out the diamond necklace and placed them on the table top, she searched the drawers for spare clothes- preferably something fabulous and new- and the closet until she found a gold dress that was acceptable enough to wear.

She made her way to the bathroom, stripped out of her red dress and washed her face with cold water; wiping away all of the makeup on her face. She took away the pins that were stuck into her head, wincing softly as the sharp edges tore at her scalp. When she finished with her pins and undressing herself, she rinsed herself under hot water and stepped out as quickly as she could and wrapped a linen towel around her smooth and fit body.

The bathroom had a shower, a simple one- nothing fancy or remotely spacious and having its racks bombarded with expensive oil scented with odd but lovely-smelling plants that were unrecognizable to her but made her smell like a fresh primrose.

She dried her long smooth hair, leaving it to sway and gleam in the light as she put on the gold dress and apply her makeup and accessories before looking into the bathroom mirror and admiring the image she create.

Her long dark wavy hair was tousled fine this morning and swept to the side in a cascade of glistening midnight falls, she wore a sequined embellished gold short dress with a gaping V-neck that fitted her fine and ample thirteen-to-fourteen size breasts (frankly, they looked quite nice- she embrace them in lovey firm dresses that fit her curves), she has strapped on gold ballet flats and her face was done in a very Goddess-like makeup.

She applied natural cream to her face's skin tone, blending in and smoothing her skin out, she also colored her eyes with smoky charcoal and kohl that made her amber irises popped out, her lips was shiny and glossy but it stayed its original color and her cheeks were little apples of red.

In other words, she was stunning and ready to head out.

When she stepped out of her room, pleased with her outer appearance, the train has slowed down and reached the Vesper's train station. Nataliya gave her daggers as she strode by with her head held high, not really give a damn about what that escort thinks. Ian raised an eyebrow at his sister's change of clothes but say no words.

Natalie bristled at the sight of the old Lucian victor, Irina Spasky, dotting on cream waffles while she thought, _it's fine, I can train myself. _Don't show weakness. She lectured her brain a hundred times as the doors slid open to reveal their way onto the train platform. Ian walked with such an articulate manner in front of the roaring press as he smiled politely to the crowd, displaying charisma as women dressed in ridiculous colorful getups as Natalie scowled. She could never be like Ian, masking her obvious disliking as screams poured into her head. He carried himself like some floating angle with twinkling eyes and shiny hair while she was cold. A cold queen, beautiful and regal; she smiled ruefully at the large blinking cameras as reporters began to scream her name.

_News travel fast, _she smirked; soaking in the fame. She glanced a bit at Ian, her big brother who has been here and there for her even though she frequently annoyed him and he often insulted her.

"Omigod! Natalie! Natalie!"

"Natalie Kabra! Stunning, little Miss Kabra!"

"Are you looking forward to the Games?"

_Don't get cocky, _her mother's snide voice came whispering into the back of her skull as she began to really smile and the grin wiped off her smile, replaced by a businesslike half-amused expression.

"Look," Ian hissed at her, beckoning to crane a glimpse at what he was staring at. "Our competitors,"

_Ours? Mine, Ian, mine. Always mine. _

She refused the chilling thought as she squinted at the other platforms where another one of the Vespers' high-tech trains was parked. Another crowd of reporters flocked the entrance but it was suddenly moving when she saw two skinny teenagers from the Madrigal District emerged through the massive crowd.

She caught sight of her rivals and she was having a quick debate in her mind whether she saw staring Death in the face before she finally reminded herself. _They are Madrigals. I am a Lucian. Do the bloody math. _But the Gomez girl was unnaturally brilliant. She eyed the boy and the girl, they didn't look like much but you never know.

The girl gave a distinct impression she rather die than be there at the moment with a horde of reporters and photographers flashing at her deep red flummoxed face. She had gentle long flowing auburn hair wrapped in a loose ponytail, her skin was the total opposite of Natalie's olive tan complexion; pale an snowy, as fresh as water. Her eyes were the most stunning feature on her innocent face, fresh minty jade. Her dress was pretty too; green and long, cheap chiffon and strapless. Oh how she enjoyed little amusements the poor would set up. Not that she liked them suffering, but the idea of them trying to act like the rich was ludicrous.

The boy, unlike his girl companion, was not amused. His expression had given a limpid idea he was irritated, he glared at every reporter within the first ten mile radius as their escort and trainer marched them through the pandemonium. He had an unruly, shaggy mop of blonde hair, a surprisingly rugged and handsome face with a define jaw and a slender nose, his complexion was more sun-kissed than the girl and she realized with an annoying stupendous blush his lean muscular and tall frame. His eyes mirrored the girl's, jade green but replaced with mischief in them. His linen button down shirt needed to be done up more carefully, boring, dull black trousers where you can see his bony ankles peeking out and black polished shoes.

_He looks like he's my age, _she noted as the breeze of bugging reporters and their two subjects strode past them. His eyes slid to her and for a moment they held a gaze, she could feel those hypnotizing jade eyes sizing her up as she tilted her chin up in a way of announcing a challenge before he snapped away from her.

She pushed out the thoughts that this might be the person she sees for the last time when she's an inch from death or that this might be a boy she flings one of her expert throwing knives at.

Ian seemed to be stunned by the red head for a quick moment before fixing his composure into a cool, collected state as usual. Natalie rolled her eyes and gave Ian a sideway glance; _you don't fool me._ Natalie didn't want to get infatuated by love or distracted by any sort of silliness. She wanted to just focus on winning.

After answering a few questions stiffly by the reporter, Nataliya and Spasky has finally had enough with annoying reporters and took the Lucian Kabra tributes to one of the Capitol's prized automobiles.

The Vesper's automobile was highly designed to be one of the most top-rated styles of transportation to be ever made in human history. It was built by Ekaterinas, designed by Vespers.

The one the Lucians rode in to the city was deep dark red with large silver shiny axis wheels, the car was nuclear powered meaning it conserved the environment. It was built with radiation-proofed, bullet-proofed, fire-proofed, bomb-proofed and literally unbreakable; even with a horde of elephants smashing down on it.

It was a short ride to the Games' Station. It was quiet too, bleak and frosty with Ian sitting at the other side of the car, face masked into what seem as a considerate smile when Natalie only knows what he was really thinking about. After all, a Lucian does what a Lucian does best. Strategizing was one of their main bonuses in the games.

Ian was lucky; he was brilliant at strategizing, a master at concealment and charms. He'll win the crowd and sponsors in a heartbeat while people find her rather unpleasant, cold and unable to relate to. But Ian has his faults. He wasn't as up to date with physical activity as she was, nor memorization on poisonous plants. Like mother like daughter, Natalie was literally Princess of Poisons.

Nataliya was humming to a song by one of the famous Vesper bands featured in last year's Games called the Diabolical Killers as the car glided smoothly on the road.

Irina, the impertinent and good-for-nothing trainer, was staring aimlessly at the car's floor as they passed by beautiful and abstract buildings belonged to the Vespers. Natalie tried not to claw her own eyes out in frustration when Irina still didn't say a word. All the other tributes are getting information right now! And what was this ugly hag doing? Absolutely nothing! If-_when_- she comes back from the Games, she is so suing this Spasky woman!

Natalie scowled again and forced herself to look at the buildings outside the window. The buildings build by Vespers were breathtaking but they were more or less nothing much to see after so many times of seeing them after countless of trips the Kabras has taken to the Capitol for business dealings.

The Games' Station was where all the tributes were staying during the first week on intense training to give them a brief taste of what they needed to do in the Games. It always started with a lunch with the Council of Vespers and Game-makers and a briefing of this year's set of rules and such. Next, they'll be sent off to get ready for the Parade down Damien Avenue where civilians would be seated and standing by the sidewalks to see Chariots of different tributes from districts to get a first impression of them. It was also first impressions of sponsors.

It was one of the Vespers' tallest buildings, over fifty meters high and twenty meters wide. Natalie had to crane her neck all the way up to see a proper view of the top and the glass windows gleamed radiantly.

She climbed out of the car and onto the freakishly neat walking pavements with Ian, Nataliya and Irina at the back of her. Nataliya clapped her hands together in excitement as Natalie's heart clenched together anxiously. "Ready to meet Tributes and the Council?"

No, Natalie thought before silently shaking her negative thoughts. Be confident, she didn't have anything to worry about because she was smart, calculating, beautiful and dangerous. A voice slid into her head, it belonged to a mother lecturing her: Confidence is ignorant; if you're feeling cocky something is going to be wrong. She needed to watch her step too, Ekaterinas with their complicated brains, unpredictable Holts with their lust for blood, Janus and their creative tricks up their sleeves and of course the Madrigals, the unexpected.

The Lucians can't have everything. Natalie never had entered the Games' Station before and neither did Ian so they followed Nataliya and Irina in with their heads held high.

When they entered the building, Natalie's jaw dropped when she saw the surroundings. As a Kabra, she has seen lots of exquisite places but this…it took the price.

Red velvet covered every inch of the silver metallic box, comfortable couches of white silky satin, lush furry silver pillows, glass coffee tables situated in the middle of the couches with polished black ceramic vases and white lilies in them.

"Could be better," Ian remarked insipidly as Nataliya shot him an offended glare and Irina was, to be simply put, remained humorless and stoic about the situation. Natalie was silent; her pure focus should be on the Games and the Games only.

"Follow me," Nataliya sniffed, marching towards a glass table where an old woman was speaking softly in hushed tones to a metallic device. Her silver hair matched her device but there were still hints of dark brown in them, her eyes were brown and warm but there was a diabolical spark in them and she wore an ironed business suit. "Miss Amato, how pleasant is it to see you!"

"It's great to see you too, Nataliya," Her tone suggested otherwise. "And they are…" Those brown eyes traveled to Natalie and Ian.

"Tributes of the Lucian District," Irina replied coolly before Nataliya could and Luna's face split into a wide smile but it didn't quite reach into those soulless brown eyes.

"Welcome," Natalie didn't felt welcome. "The Capitol greets you amiably; the luncheon would be set up on the third floor. Your passes," Luna Amato handed them white, laminated passes with a bar code and a black finger print marked on it.

"Now off we go," Nataliya said in an ardent tone, literally skipping her way and leading the group towards the lobby where they scanned their passes and did a blood test before they were allowed to go into a metallic, see through elevator. Nuclear powered, sixty miles per hour and you barely feel a thing.

You got to love technology.

They stepped out of the elevator and onto the third floor. The carpet was beige with intricate swirling black patterns, bright nuclear powered chandeliers, ivory pale wall and in the middle of the room was a humongous circular pure black obsidian dining table loaded with food and silver cutlery.

There were five people and some of the tributes had filed in onto the smooth white leather chairs which contrasted with the black table The food was, by most definitely, exuberant and lively with different colors and aromas of different food.

"Ah, the Lucian Tributes," A woman came waddling towards her with her dark blonde hair wrapped in a tall wrapped around bun, her green eyes popped out by the help of large rhinestone fake eyelashes, black eyeliner rimmed her eyes and her maroon red lips was illuminating against the bright chandeliers. Her face was unbelievably young with no wrinkles but somehow Natalie got a feeling she was much older than she looked. She wore a strapless lace tulle black dress which reached to her knees. "I'm Calera Wyoming and welcome to the Capitol, you make take a seat,"

"Ian Kabra and my sister, Natalie," Ian said her name spitefully while she rolled her eyes. Honestly, let it go, Natalie thought as she walked towards an empty seat next to a couple aggressively-looking girls with sweet honey blonde hair that didn't suit them. "Pleasure to meet you," He said it so coolly and politely, you can't tell the hint of disdain in his voice that he didn't want to be any part of the Games. The only one who could tell was Natalie.

"A man with manners," A wicked smile blossomed at her lips as they settled in to the chairs. The rest of the tributes were a collection of different people. The aggressive girls had a brother with honey blonde hair which was a shape of a shark fin, a triplets group of redheads and calculating bright grey eyes that was analyzing all the other tributes to try to work out how to take them on in a fight, two dark-skinned boys; one was somewhere along eighteen and one was small and skinny and the same boy and girl they both saw at the train station.

"Now all our tributes is here," A man with no respect for himself, green hair and hazel eyes. "We shall await our wonderful and courteous leader of our nation to the table, President Vesper,"

As if he heard his cue, a man materialized right at the doorway and had four bulky Tomas bodyguards flanked North, South, East and West. He clicked his fingers; the sound shot out sharp and clear and the bodyguards spread out so they can see the man's face clearly.

"President Damien Vesper, what an honor!" Calera said enthusiastically and started clapping lightly, glaring at everybody with her sharp green eyes to clap and the tributes follow along, looking rather unpleasant about it. The president smiled amusingly but it didn't reach his cold eyes. They were so pale, they were nearly white with a mere hint of ice blue in them.

For a ruler of a nation, he was surprisingly young. By his appearance, he was lean and slim but with a few sculpted muscles at his arms and midriff. His hair was chestnut brown, chopped off a little shaggy by his sides and his face was charming, handsome and dashing with a prominent jaw and Roman archaic sculpted cheekbones. His clothes were impeccable and socially acceptable, a pale blue suit jacket over a white buttoned t-shirt and black trousers.

"Damien Vesper," A faint accent hovered over his English as his eyes scanned the faces of aggressive and bloodthirsty Tomas, creative and self-absorbed Janus, intellectual and arrogant Ekaterina, cunning and over-estimating Lucians and highly underestimated and nervous Madrigals. "What a great pleasure to meet the Tributes of the 39th Annual Cahill Games; now let's enjoy the meal,"

Natalie was unaware of how hungry she was until she pay proper attention to the food. Even though there were luscious strawberries and mountains of prestigious pastries, she didn't touch any of those confectionaries. The last time she ate was…at back home with her parents and Ian.

She wasn't so hungry she ate raucously like those nasty-looking Holts from the Tomas District. She loaded her plate with caviar on toast and butter, some lean juicy pheasant meat and a fresh spring clean salad which involves rocket leaves washed in the spring in the Monet Mountains (Janus District Area), plucked by hand cherry red tomatoes, clean cut foie gras diced onto the vegetables and garlic mushrooms to finished a touch to the salad.

In other words, she ate well and controlled her portions. The Games were here and she had no silly intentions of gaining weight during this time or ever.

After everyone has ate (including those barbaric Holts) and the dishes has cleared up, they shifted their chairs to the front of the room where a black podium has been set up for the briefing the president would addressed to the Tributes, the Council of the Vespers, the escorts and their trainers.

Damien Vesper smiled lightly at the small crowd and Natalie had noticed at the back of the room, a large rolling black camera was filming. President's Vesper had his business-like face on, an expression Politicians has plastered on their face to show they 'cared' about the nation not about making and gaining money like a swine from taxes, but he wasn't fooling anybody or maybe he just wasn't fooling Natalie.

"Today, you all have been chosen to take part of this mind-blowing and breath-talking event which could end or change your life," President Vesper said with a touch of complacent in his tone. "Remember that at the end of these three weeks all of you might be dead except for just one,"

He cleared his throat and continue on as Natalie paid crystal clear attention to what was being said, "This year is the Burning Cycle, two major bonus added," A cruel smile blossomed the young handsome man's features, a smile which shouldn't be so comfortable on such a young face like that but yet it never felt more at home. "Siblings at war with each other, almost like a war in the far distant past when the old country was torn apart and fought in a civil war. It almost when our nation was ripped apart between the Capitol and the Districts, brothers tearing apart brothers,"

Natalie could've laughed. Imagine that, Cahills and Vespers- 'brothers and brothers'. From what she have read, the Vespers were noble to bombed off the rest of humanity (or bad, bad people as the Vespers has intervened in their story books) and enslaved the Cahills to be some sort of plaything for the Vespers (or kind enough to let the Cahills live in 'peace and harmony). Before the rebellion has started and the Games were formed, the Vespers didn't let the Cahills have 'peace' or 'harmony'.

They pillaged, burn and destroyed villages and small town areas in districts when they refused to pay the outrageous amount of food to the Vespers, they taken, raped and murdered young beautiful girls from poorer Districts and anyone dare to disrespect Vespers authority would be burned at the stake.

Districts have obviously thought enough was enough and tried to fight with the Vespers and lost, horribly because people were still paying the price today with their children lives.

Well, colossal fail everybody.

She had so much to prove yet she got from Ian's point of view about the Vespers cruelness despite their parents indulgence in it. She wanted to show everybody what she could do but her conscious has prevented her from truly showing her sociopathic roots. One day, this guilt and humanity thing would be the death of her. Damn guilt.

"And so siblings would be fighting against each other for an ultimate sacrifice of peace and humility," Natalie resisted to roll her eyes. How fake and stupid. God, if the Vespers were this much of an idiot when the Cahills fought them (and lost), she weep for the Cahills' future.

Okay, let's be realistic- she wouldn't weep.

"Also the other feature will be the trained Vespers from the War Academy, they will be against you to truly test your bounds," A twinkled formed in his eyes. "There will be eight Career Tributes and let me warn you, they don't show mercy," Natalie's heart pounded. The neither escort nor trainer informed her of this. Trained Vespers from the Capitol's War Academy, soldiers trained at that facility has won against the Cahills in the war. She could feel a lump building up by her throat and a horrified whisper came to her. Never mind the tributes, the trained Career tributes would be even harder to beat. A sliver of doubt began to slip into her mind when this was announced.

"Now, you'll see the Career Tributes at the Chariot Parade," He said amiably with a smirk, "And for a week you'll be training with your trainers and be given advance survival training then of course we'll proceed to the Games,"

He spread his arms up and it was dead silent in the room, "After this briefing which will very soon, you'll be escorted to your rooms and stylist to be ready for the Chariot Parade tonight," Damien Vesper's eyes glimmered in excitement. "And this briefing is adjourned."

* * *

**Ugh. I do pray I got Natalie's character how people would imagine her if she was in this world. A bit of a fashionista, conceited and vain but more obsessed with winning the Games. She's a bit more hostile and colder than they portray her in the books, but it's how I imagine Natalie would be in this Dystopian sort of world. Though she's still conceited, a bit of a fashionista but more obsessed with winning the Games because after her parents influence how the hell do you think the character would turn out? **

**She's more calculating than Ian but of course Ian's more charismatic. She's sort of a mixture of Glimmer and Clove, her personality is the closest to Katniss in this- just imagine a conceited, cocky, obsessed with winning the Games Katniss and you have Natalie in the Cahill Games. I hope you're okay with it...**

**I got the idea of nuclear powered items from Artemis Fowl (fantastic series) and twisted my idea of having trained Vespers in it. Casper and Cheyenne will be thrown in (like Cato and Clove)! Did you see their dear mom Calera Wyoming? I thought it would be fun. However after this, we will be seeing Nellie's POV for the small rebellion forming (you'll see) so that I won't have to just sock it in and you'll be like...where did that come from? **

**Now press that review button to make me smile. **

**Ta ta, **

**-Queen. **


	5. Lost Love

**Do not own the Hungers Game nor 39 Clues. If I did I wouldn't be here, would I?**

Chapter 5

Lost love

Nellie Gomez hated her job. She was forced to do it in this horrible, agonizing fashion the Vespers had cruelly crafted for her. They came around and sucked in everything that was good in her life.

Every single damn year, kids with sad eyes and miserable faces knowing they have no chance of surviving against the Vesper's wrath she had to be forced to train them and send them off to most likely be their death. She wanted to yell at the Vespers: _what's the point? They know they're going to die already! Why make me suffer again and again when you take everything I had five freaking years ago?_

It was a reminder of him. It was a reminder of her anger and vengeance that had fueled her when she saw him dead, killed by a Tomas in the Games. It was a reminder of what it's like to be a sole survivor after your psychopathic rage.

Despite the luscious lifestyle they supplied her with: fancy, sparking nuclear powered automobiles, a large spacious chunky apartment with glittering leather white furniture and diamond-encrusted gift-wrapped presents, it was the same shit ever year. Go down to the Madrigal District, train them, beg sponsors to fund them and then watch them die.

New Year, same depressing shit.

But this year…the competitors were different. Long time ago, her grandmother had once told her to see their spirit in a person was to search the eyes. The eyes were the window to your soul and those jade minty eyes that belonged to those two siblings had a fierce, fighting spirit.

They sort of reminded her…of the girl she once was five years ago before her Games had commenced. And it took her back on the day of that horrible reaping.

* * *

"Welcome to 34th Annual Hunger Games," Mr. McIntyre announced as Nellie Gomez raised her chin in defiance, cursing the Capitol to hell as she looked over her shoulder to exchange glances with her best friend, Theo Cotter.

_Cretins, _his dark, beautiful eyes told her and she grinned. Theo Cotter had been her best friend for as long as she can remember, he rescued her from the cruelty her father had pushed upon her- abusive to her, her mother and siblings and he was her most trusted hunting partners. She admitted secretly he grown to be dashing and handsome with his chestnut honey unruly curly locks, large dark eyes and a narrow, regal face with boy-ish features that suited his personality.

He always was there for her and vice versa for him.

Nellie disliked the Games with a burning passion so she glared at Mr. McIntyre and the Madrigal Trainer, a graduate from the Vesper War Academy, named Calera Wyoming. But she could not ignore the raw fear grappling at the pits of her stomach; as much as she was stubborn and rebellious there was no denying she was afraid. The Games sucked out everything she believe was good and bright.

Her life was a cloud of darkness but she always preferred to look at the light of things and the Games sucked all of that out but she stayed strong and she would not let it rule her life.

Nellie was adorned in a black tunic with an embroidered neckline with silver sequins and silver flats. Her long dark hair braided in a plait fixed by her mother, her eyes lined with the small tip of the charcoal and her lips daubed in red lips. She felt dispassionately superficial- not herself. The only bit that truly stayed herself was the nautical knot pendant her best friend Theo Cotter gave to her for her 15th birthday.

Calera explained about honor, sacrifice and humility and all that bullshit they try to lace over the true reason of why they wanted the Games. Her long blonde hair in a perky ponytail as she smirked at them as if they were her slaves, she admired her nails and said her speech in that annoying voice.

"Now it's time to pick our tributes," She said with a wicked smile and Nellie's heart clenched as she held her head up. The glass bowl of little pieces of parchments with scribbles and inscriptions of names, Calera's perfect fingers with pink, gemstone nails and she took out a small slip of paper.

Calera cleared her throat into the buzzing mike. "Our female tribute is…" She paused for that dramatic effect. In that pause, Nellie rolled her eyes. "…Nellie Gomez."

Wait, what?

The entire area turned to look at her and Nellie clutched her fists. It was a death sentence; she was now the walking dead. As much as she faked it, she was well aware of how close she is to death. Her legs had turned into lead but she forced her feet to walk on to the stage, eyes fixed to Calera's stupid face and ignoring stares of pity.

She would not accept pity, she had been for the past crappy fourteen years of her life and if she was to die…she'll do it for honor and happiness. Her eyes flitted towards her mother in the crowd of parents, her father nowhere to be seen (and probably drunk). Her brothers were afraid in the younger kids section as she tried not to stumble out. _Don't fall; _she chided herself, putting on a brave face.

"Nellie, NO!" Theo screamed, running out to the walkway formed by the crowd for Nellie to walk through and Nellie was already climbing the stairs numbly when Theo fought with the guards. "Let ME THROUGH! Nellie! No, please-"

_Theo, you blithering idea, _Nellie wanted to yell but speech fell her. Ha, the girl who speaks too much couldn't speak at all now. "Young man, can you please go-"

"I VOLUNTEER!" Theo struggled to free himself from the rough grip of tow strong, bulky guards and wrenched himself out of the way to stumble his way onto the stage as time sank in the message of what happen.

"Theo," Nellie pleaded, stepping forward out to the front shakily as the miserable boy's harsh eyes told her he was going to keep her safe no matter what.

"A dramatic turn of events here in District Madrigal," Calera was excited as the guards escorted Theo towards the stage. _We're both done for, _Nellie thought pessimistically when Theo stood beside her and slid his hand into hers while his eyes were glassy. "We have a volunteer! What's your name, boy?"

"T-Theo Cotter," The last burst of confidence made Calera beamed sardonically.

"How wonderful, a volunteer!" She began clapping but the district stayed as shock and forlorn as she was. "That end easier than I thought and District Madrigal let me present you your tributes: Nellie Gomez and Theo Cotter!"

* * *

"Thank you for being here with us tonight, Nikola Spasky and surely you'll follow your mother's legacy of being the winner of the Cahill Games!" Broderick Wizard announced grandly, his dark dreadlocks tipped with pronounced, lime green and his dark eyes gleaming with magnificence. "Now, let's welcome our girl tribute all the way from the Madrigal District: Nellie Gomez!"

Nellie had been bracing herself for this moment. A big bright smile was plastered on her face despite the nerves jumbling in her stomach, Theo's dreamy eyes flitted towards her to make sure she was alright and she gave him a cheery thumbs up- the opposition of what she was feeling on the inside.

_Liar, _her friend's eyes accused her and she turned her head back to the entrance to the stage where Broderick was clapping as the blond head of Nikola Spasky bowed to the crowd and soon it'll be her face in front of thousands or even millions.

God, why were her knees quaking so badly?

She wasn't like this. She was Nellie Gomez: Loud and confident, a radiant sunshine with a feisty attitude- she was basically the epitome of life. She'll put on a smile and get this over with.

Nikola's airy blue eyes sparkled when he crossed passed her and she exhaled the breath she didn't even know she was holding. The black coal color dress the designer had stuck her in was annoyingly itchy. It reached to her knees (Thank the Lord), but it was sewed with silver shiny. Silver sequins laced the dress, making it shine and sparkle spectacularly in the light but the length of it made her uncomfortable.

It reached only half way down to her thighs and showed a bit of cleavage through the small V-neck line created by the straps of the black studded spaghetti straps, showing her bare tan neck and long legs along with her ordinary size chests. Stud silver earrings pieced her ears and they were still noticeably red, her long dark hair had been pulled back into a tight high ponytail and straightened utmost to the point where she was pretty sure the hair on her head was burn and the tip was dipped into an inferno of red and orange. Black spiky boots sharp enough to make an appropriate weapon for the games and tall enough for her to take one step and fall flat on her face.

She was completely in her comfort zone.

She walked as steadily as gracefully as a fifteen Madrigal rural girl could in a preposterous dress which revealed more skin than there was more of cloth (she had dignity to protect out there!) and skyscraper killer shoes. "There she is! Stunning and beautiful as always, let me present you your tribute: Nellie Gomez!"

Nellie faked a smile the best she could with her make-up laced face though it came out more as a contorted grimace. She managed to make it to the modern, abstract white leather chairs in the middle and sat on the one unoccupied besides Broderick Wizard.

Broderick Wizard was an extremely charismatic Janus who was a talk show host and his talk show had more than five million watching. He always had hosted the Cahill Game' interviews and she felt as if this was more like an interrogation than an interview.

She sat down with her legs crossed consciously each other and the crowd's roar was ferocious when she smiled dazzling. "You look beautiful tonight, Miss Gomez and how are you doing?"

"I'm okay, a little nervous but alright nonetheless."

"Ah," Mr. Wizard nodded earnestly, the crowd swaying along with him with such ease and confidence it baffled her how someone could be so charming while advertising something so horrible. "That's brilliant! So how are you finding the Capitol?"

"Well it's a bit foreign from back home," Nellie responded truthfully. And the audience laughed raucously, she blinked; perplexed. What was so funny?

"I bet it is," Mr. Wizard chortled merrily while Nellie sat there, haven't caught on the joke.

"It's quite big and shiny here," Nellie added randomly and the crowd laughed even harder. She smiled amiably at the crowd, putting on a façade of ardent sunniness. "But all your clothes are definitely different from District Madrigal- much more colors."

"You love colors?" Mr. Wizard questioned her casually and she nodded along. Remembering Calera's interview advice: make the crowd love you! (She said with extra perkiness, so it seemed fitting for the over use of exclamation marks), she brushed a lock of black hair from her face.

"Yes, I do."

"So tell me Nellie…do you have anyone _special _back in your district?"

Nellie blinked back, flabbergasted. She covered the flummoxed expression on her face with a small, complacent smile while she tried to think up a good excuse for this answer. Her eyes drifted back stage to glimpse at Theo's face, which remained indifferent and impassive and his eyes told her another story.

"Not really," Nellie shielded her eyes from the crowd and onto the floor; her legs were much more interesting…

"Are you sure?" Mr. Wizard hinted ambiguously, rousing Nellie's irritation with all these stupid, _personal _questions. "We were all so touched when Mr. Cotter volunteered just right after you were chosen. Are you completely sure there's nothing going on?"

It's not like she could deny all these butterflies and fluttery feelings for Theo. Sweet, generous Theo who had always been there for her- both in Life and Death and she grew to love him from that small stumbling boy who helped her from the hellhole her father left her in to that strong, annoyingly handsome man who volunteered into the Games…_for her. _But who was her to share all these arcane meanings and secrets to the world without confiding Theo? Most of these confounding, frustrating thoughts involved him after all…

"Theo and I are friends, nothing more." She stated clearly. Unaware how heartbroken the boy at the back was when he heard those words.

* * *

Nellie was running for her life as quick as she can, her legs taking her as fast as they could. Her instincts urged her to go faster as one of the blood-lusting Career Tomas tributes were chasing after her- and gaining. The sack of food attached to the rope around her waist jiggled wildly as she panted and took a sharp right with the Tomas tribute screaming bloody murder behind her.

Her mind was not functioning properly as she transcended deeper into the arena which was designed into a dark, tomb-like labyrinth. "I'll kill you!" Jenna Holt hollered with bloodlust in her eyes. _Not if I have anything to say about it, _Nellie's legs raced against time as she entered into a familiar route she and Theo had carefully plan for her to take. _One, two, three! Now Theo!_

She paused into a skidding halt and a loud, enraged scream was drawn for the trapped halt. Theo's net has worked perfectly as planned. "You bitch!" Jenna Holt screamed, trying to aim for her head with her wicked sword but Nellie stayed wide away with a relief grin on her face.

"I have no time for you." Nellie marched away from the yelling Holt girl. _If she keeps doing that all the other Careers would find and kill her, _Nellie shuddered disturbingly while rubbing her fatigue cloaked eyes and trickled a gulp of cold water into her dry throat. She should probably get back to Theo now.

She undo the tightly fastened rope belt on her waist along with the sack of fresh apples, dry fruit, lovely carrots and strips of dry meat. Her stomach croaked wantonly when she thought about a lovely, barely warm meal with Theo in the shadows, hidden away from the rest. She smiled, her eyes shifted to the netted Tomas.

Their plan was pure, effective and simple. Theo would distract the Career Tributes away as she sneak in and grabbed their sacks of food they've been piling in one mountainous bundle to lure the other tributes in and obviously they knew the tributes will leave a sentry guard-which happens to be Jenna Holt. She managed to snag one of the sacks before having the psychopathic Tomas chased her all the way into her bear trap. Theo would be leading the other group of Career into a large net and tangling them up in quite a fix.

He was probably at the place where they would meet up, waiting on her to return. At least, she hoped he was.

"NELLIE! HELP!"

Her heart stopped.

Her breath convulsed violently in short, quick spasms when he started calling out more for help and her legs leaped into fast action automatically. "NELLIE!" She turned right with her sharp hearing and led her towards where the net for Theo was supposed to trap his victims.

Her heart teemed with horrible, consuming fear when she saw the empty net on the dirty floor with no Theo or Careers to be seen. Her eyes were flooded with unnecessary moisture in deep desperation and contradicting the consequences, she called out.

"Theo, where are you?" She screamed.

"Nellie!" His voice was growing fainter as if he was dying to his last breath. Running as fast as she can, she skipped and leaped through tunnels with the sack of food whipping in her hands.

The horror, bone-chilling thought of him drying was too terrifying for Nellie to even think about. She balked when she came across a fork of different dark, gloomy paths. "Theo?" She whispered, scared and confused. Her legs were wearing out, tired of running so fast and so long.

"NELLIE!" Earth-shattering screams followed through and she plunged headfirst into the far right.

Theo lied on the ground, a knife stabbed into his chest and blood constantly pouring out. Remains of a shredded net were casted onto Theo's feet, scratches and contusions etched in his face as Nellie felt her throat closing up.

"Theo," She choked out and fell onto her knees. Collections of dusts and mildew made her sneeze and cough but she didn't care as her fingers shakily cut through his shirt to inspect the knife wound. "Who did this?" She demanded austerely. Blood soaked her hands and it dawned on her how deep the knife has thorn into his flesh, puncturing his ribs and lungs and severing all the veins.

"No…" She sobbed. "You can't…WHO DID THIS?"

"Nellie," Theo cupped her face. His face had turn into a sickly green pallor, his deep brown eyes were losing the light as the girl let out hysterical sounds of sorrow and tried her best to stop the bleeding but with no avail and the same results: he was dying. "Listen to me."

"Answer my question, Theo," Nellie's hands began to shake excessively as she took out a small flask of water and poured it onto his injured chests. "Who. Did. This?"

"Boy from Lucian," Theo coughed incessantly. "Nellie, I need to tell you something."

"What?" She replied numbly, wiping the remains of the dry blood stuck to his chest. "We need to get some medicine and-"

"No medicine is going to save me. I'm dying already," Slow, uneasy gulps of air was taken by Theo as he struggled to remain in the Earth for as long as possible.

"Don't say that!"

"Kiddo, please," Theo begged and Nellie stopped when she listened to the sincerity in his voice.

"Don't call me that."

"Will you just listen?" Theo asked exasperatedly but he was amused despite his fading heart beat and coughing of blood. "Jesus, you're even more stubborn. And I'm _dying here; _I want to tell you…I love you."

Nellie blinked, perplexed and taken aback by his words. Contradicting grave moments, her heart soured and her stomach did back flips when she heard that. He _loves _her. And she realized how unfair life was. They barely got time to administer their feelings for each other and now…he'll be dead and gone. "Me too," She sobbed.

Tears streamed down his face. "Tell me…" He coughed harder, pain wrecked his voice. "Tell me…you'll win. For me,"

She nodded, unable to speak. She clutched the dagger which lied forgotten and abandoned besides her with newfound determination boiling in her heart and in a slow, somber second, Theo Cotter was dead.

Insane screaming of loss and pain filled the dark tunnels, scaring every rat back into their hole of comfort. Appalling cries of demented grief filled Nellie Gomez, the epitome of ardent cheerfulness, as she threw the sack of food against the walls.

He was there for her, she got him in this. If she wasn't reaped, he'll be happy and alive. This was the Capitol's pay and blood will be shed.

And indeed it did.

In less than three days, all the other tributes were dead.

* * *

"You wish to speak to me?" The brown-eyed Victor asked cautiously as she saw a man dressed cordially in a superlative, rich velvet blazer over black trousers with polished loafers and a purple bow tie standing in her Capital apartment she was gifted by her fans and the Council of the Vespers a few days after winning the Games.

"Miss Gomez," His condescending voice obligated her to walked faster into her living room when President Vesper had whirled around professionally to see her.

Nellie clutched the sides of her jeans anxiously when a wicked smile plastered on to his face, contorting it into a diabolical expression which scared her more than the Games. "Um," Your majesty? Your highness? "Mr. President, what are you doing here?"

"Call me Damien," He bowed respectively as she approached him slowly. "And I here to offer my congratulations in person,"

There was no doubt Damien Vesper was a handsome man. He was astonishingly young with a structural, symmetrical face of sharp, aristocratic cheekbones, a define, prominent chin, cold blue eyes that reminded her of sharks she seen in pictures and dark hair which was unbridled and surprisingly ruffled despite his state of class.

"But you're not just here for that, aren't you?" She sat down cautiously on the leather black chairs along with President Vesper facing her with a light, careful smile.

"So you aren't completely stupid," He admired the Grecian columns of her state-of-the-art apartment. "Straightforward too," He conceded while bringing out a red apple, ripe and voluptuous.

"That's an apple." Nellie remarked blatantly.

"I love apples," He said jubilantly. Nellie's fingers curled around the handle of her silver dagger, ready to strike whenever. "So sweet and juicy yet so forbidden and alluring, do you know that apples are the fruit of the devil?"

She remained silent.

"So red and lovely, can I borrow that beautiful knife of yours?"

She was cut off guard and he caught her taken aback expression and laughed. "Did you honestly think I didn't know you weren't armed?"

"Here," Nellie said numbly, handing him the silver, polished blade and watched him sliced it slickly upon the red peeling. In one automatic motion, six large pieces of pale white and dark red fresh bits of apples feel put. Damien offered her an apple and she accepted because it seemed inappropriate to decline.

The crushed apple in her mouth burst expectedly with unbridled sweetness, the nectar juice poured slowly into her throat and making her extremely thirsty. His cold eyes twinkled surreptitiously, indicating a clear message that he was the patriarch here.

"What are you really doing here, Damien?" It felt weird. Calling the President by his first name gave her a very unpleasant vibe and had her shifting uncomfortably in her abundant couch.

"I think you know."

She blinked, perplexed. "What are you implying?"

"Miss Gomez, do you know what was unique about this year's Games?" He hummed merrily, he took one of the spare pieces of the apples that lay abandoned on her glass table and used her knife to dice it into tinier parts with enforced strength.

Nellie swallowed. Victor or not, Damien Vesper scared the hell out of her. That half smirk of him was an eerie imitation of a painting called the Mona Lisa created by an old Janus artist named Leonardo Da Vinci, his cold blue eyes were the reflection of his sold- monotonous, apathetic with hints of a patronizing, slightly demented shades- and his pale skin and high features gave him almost like a handsome, snake-like appearance.

"No, not really," Nellie said carefully.

"What's unique about the Games this year is that you've won,"

"And why is that unique?"

"Who are the frequent winners of the Games?"

"Lucians and Tomas," Nellie replied robotically.

"Exactly, you're a Madrigal." Damien tapped his fingers. "An incorrigible, completely irrevocable Madrigal at the heart, you gave-and I'm putting this lightly- the people hope to the outlying districts they stand a chance of surviving. And once they think that, they'll have an idea of overthrowing _me. _Miss Gomez, I supposed you know what happened the last time people tried that?"

_Psychopathic bimbos like you created a Death Parade; _Nellie wanted to snap something smart or witty but knew it would be the death of her if she tried anything impetuous. She stayed silent as Damien continued his rant.

"You gave them hope. Let me tell you Miss Gomez, a little hope is effective and a lot of hope is dangerous. I'm just here to give you a warning, if you try any funny business- raising the people's heart of thinking poor, pathetic districts could win- I would kill your family, keep your mother as a lovely slave and you as a concubine, now the only way out of this if you support the idea of the Hunger Games." He concluded with a smile, he finished the last pieces of his apple and rubbed his hands together.

"What?!" Nellie stared at the insane man, shocked. "Why in the world would you think I would support _you?" _

"Do you love your siblings? How is little Micah doing?"

"He's _fine._ And you're crazy if you think I would be happy about the very event that killed Theo,'

"Consider your options and if you don't agree by tomorrow, I'll make sure the Cotters get killed too."

Nellie couldn't stand watching the smug man stood from the couch and strode towards the door. She balanced her chances and clutched the nautical knot on her neck; it was the pendant that Theo gave to her on her 15th birthday. She hated the Hunger Games but it would be the ultimate betrayal to Theo if his family was killed. And Micah deserved to live…

"Alright I'll do it."

"Brilliant! Always a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Gomez."

* * *

_Five years later_

"What are they're going to do with me?" asked a very frightful Amy Cahill when the Guards pushed her through to another corridor and separated her from her brother. Nellie Gomez was at the front with hardened eyes and a somber face.

"They're taking you to meet the designer," Nellie marched robotically towards a set of steel double doors which opened automatically when they sensed her presence.

Two glaringly obvious Capital stylists were stationed by a mirror, a spinning leather chair and a small desks on wheels with utensils suitable for a torture round much less a dress-up for the Parade. The stylists were obnoxiously dressed in pronounced, vivid outfits with purple fairytale tousles and glittery bodice and sky-rocketing glowing heels. Another one wore a gold, pretentious suit of flaxen, shiny material with bronze shoes and lightning bolt necklaces.

If the Vespers' fashion style were any weirder, they could be classified as an entirely different species.

"It's okay," Nellie did her best to soothe the girl's distraught (to put it charitably) face. "You'll be in good hands."

"You need to leave." A nasal voice stylist-the purple one- said snobbishly as she strapped on white, plastic gloves.

"Just a few moments, I need to make sure she's okay," Nellie negotiated with a slight roll of her eyes. "Kiddo, you'll be fine. They're just going to wash you up until your designer decides how to dress you up."

"A-Are they here to make you look p-pretty?"

"They're here to make you an impression." Nellie replied wisely before giving the evil eye to Purple Glitter before heading out of the steel box dressing room. "You'll be fine." With one more acidic glare to the stylists, she left the room and forged on to her apartment, making it look as if she was casually leaving to her apartment on Vespers' camera.

After she left the condemned building of the Games Headquarters, she hailed a quick cab over to an abandoned warehouse. She pulled out a long blonde wig and inserted green contacts before bribing the driver with a sizable amount of a hundred Vesper gold coins.

She leaped out of the cab as inconspicuously as she could. She tugged at the blonde wig irately when the scratchy split ends scraped across her scalp. God, blonde was _so _not her color.

She strolled casually onto the warehouse and went to the back door, her eyes scanning any signs of people watching her. She regarded the situation as safe before pushing a small rusty bobby pin into the keyhole of the sturdy, old but very heavy door.

The warehouse was archaic. Rotting, peeling walls, remnants of shattered miscellaneous objects thrown aside carelessly, creaky wooden floorboards and broken, flickering lights decorated the rickety building.

Nellie's breath hitched. Something was not right.

Her hands crept to the dagger kept in the belt scabbard of her jeans. In less than a nanosecond, she whirled and slashed an arc into the air of her imposer.

"Easy there, Gomez," Fiske Cahill harangued when he parried her strike perfectly with a short steel sword. "You never know when you might hurt someone."

"That 'someone' could easily be some Vesper spies," Nellie huffed while pocketing her dagger. "So you said that there's some business you need to get taken care of?"

"Yes, I do," Fiske's cordial smile glimmered in the dim light of the warehouse. "I need to inform you of the next step of the plan."

"Don't!" A voice snarled in the darkness. "She could be some Damien's spy, who knows where her true loyalties lie?"

Nellie bristled. How dare that old fart accuse her of disloyalty? "And who are you to question me?" She asked coldly.

"Alistair Oh, Head Gamekeeper and apparently Damien's most trusted advisor," -Came the smug reply as the man emerged from the shadows. "I heard how Vesper talks about you, as if he almost admire your dementia in the 34th Games,"

That struck a nerve. Memories of _that _Games, small little visions of the light leaving her victims eyes and the etched image of Theo's dead, cremated body lying lifeless flashed right before her eyes. "Shut up," Nellie hissed. "You have _no _idea what I been through and those _bastards _are the reason why Theo's dead. If you think I'm working with Vespers. It's very illiterate for an Ekaterina to think so."

Alistair's eyes narrowed and Nellie pumped her fists up in the air mentally when his scowl deepened. "So what are the reports on the rebellion?" Nellie asked a very amused Fiske Cahill.

"Slowly gathering our forces but we're getting stronger day by day," Fiske updated. "Half of the Ekaterinas are ready for it, some of the Janus and a handful of Madrigals operating for us but the main plan is starting to hatch."

Alistair and Nellie nodded in unison. "So what's the master plan?"

"That," Fiske's pearly whites shown through the arcane smile which always drove her crazy, "my friend is a secret. But I can tell you a war is brewing and it will make the Uprising thirty nine years ago look like a water balloon fight."

_Shit's about to happen, _Nellie contemplated grimly.

* * *

**I returned from the dead. I had obviously useless reasons why I was...late. **

**1) TESTS. Bloody tests. Hate them. It's been exam week so I needed to study. But I passed! A B- in Science (not strongest...), An A- in Math (I was shocked...I used to sleep through that class), pretty bad in English (this one I was disappointed- I got a B+ average! THE HORROR!), A+ for social studies and history. A B+ for French (don't know how that happen...).**

**2) Did I ever mention to you my teachers are lunatics? After exam weeks and getting back the exams with cheers and cries, we didn't get a chance to breathe or relax. We had bloody homeworks like four sodding assessments piled up and due together in the same week. **

**3) Now this is a really useless excuse. THE TV! I got hooked on a new show Supernatural and it's...AMAZING! I'm only Season 3 but...AHHHH, oh Dean and Sam! It'll be cool to be a hunter, eh? **

**4) John Freaking Green. That author...is like God. The Faults in Our Stars ripped out my heart, baked in an oven till it's a light honey gaze then served it on a silver platter for me to eat! DAT BOOK IS SO...BREATHTAKING! Why? John Green does not sugar coat the real meaning of dying, cancer, tragedy and all that shiz, he's real and true- just so good. And AUGUSTUS WATERS-?! You make such a wonderful, funny and beautiful character and you just-?! Then there was Looking for Alaska which made me depressed, socially dethatched from the rest of the world (like I wasn't before) and perceived life in a whole different way. DAMN IT, HOW WILL I EVER GET OUT OF THE LABYRINTH?**

**5) My novel. Yes, I'm writing one at the moment and devoting time to researching, writing, hardcore editing (eh, rewriting) and plotting. **

**6) I might no update in a LONG time because I'm spending like a few weeks in London and Paris (which is partly perfect because there's where most of my novel is featured so take it as a working field trip instead of a holiday, eh?) SO I'M WORKING, KIDS! Some of us do have a job...and I'm only 14 years old. **

**Please note: This chapter is important and Nellie is significant in the story because if I just randomly place a rebellion in the middle of just the Amy/Dan/Ian/Natalie shindig it would be just blatantly lame and shows that I have no sense of planning or plotting- which I completely do. It also shows how Nellie is involved in the first place, she's not just a cardboard cut out there for comedic relief or just a reminder that she actually existed in the books. It also shows how much the toll of a love one affected Nellie cheerful, Kiddo-name calling attitude. You also get an idea on what's going on with the rebellion and how evil President Vesper is. **

**Another Note: Theo Cotter is not an OC because may I remind some annoying, whiny thirteen year olds that will might or might not flame or criticize me for this because Mr. Cotter is actually a minor character in Book 4: Beyond the Grave- the one Nellie fancies, the one who betrayed Amy and Dan by stealing the Sekhmet statue. Duh. I checked. **

**Whoa...Long A/N. **

**I need a blog and something to do with my life. **

**-Queen. **

**REVIEW OR I'LL GET YOU!**


	6. Death's Parade

**Do not own the Hungers Game nor 39 Clues. **

Chapter 6

Death's Parade

Amy dreaded the fate bestowing upon her. What was it to be? Death? Torture? Starvation?

Oh no, Nellie seemed to have led her to the worst and unpredictable conclusion: Dress-up.

As a poor Madrigal orphan Amy had never been showered with brilliant dresses and lustrous cosmetics of a Lucian girl's wet dream but, holy Mother of God, it was…something.

"Whoa," Amy whispered, breathless when Nellie brought her into the dressing room for the Madrigal Girl.

Nellie smiled dryly. "I know."

The room itself was breathtaking enough. Cream leather chaise lounges, polished glass coffee tables completed and abundantly supplied with satin drapes and large blue hydrangeas. Sparkling clothes hung on the racks and diamond chandeliers sparkled from the ceiling above.

"Welcome," A lay with red hair turned around, she was adorned with a white lab coat over a paisley blouse and a black pencil skirt with two black kitten heels perched on her feet. "I'm Elysia Collins, your stylist."

Elysia's red hair made Amy slightly envious; it was a nice shade of dark auburn when Amy was stuck with the ginger-y carrot top. Elysia grey eyes gazed patronizingly at Amy who nervous shifted from foot to foot. "You can go now, Gomez." She said irately. Nellie sniffed with an imprudent snort but obeyed Elysia's orders and left the room.

"That was very brave of you." Elysia commented suddenly.

"W-what?"

"I watch your reaping; it must be hard to keep the tears in." Elysia smiled warmly as she sighed and settled on the white leather couches, she held up a platter brimming of sugar-coated donuts. "Want some?"

Amy's stomach was still filled with food from the dinner so she shook her head. Elysia shrugged and popped one into her mouth. "So do you know the reason why I'm here?"

"To make me look p-pretty?"

"To make an impression," Elysia corrected, placing the platter of donuts back on the glass table. Standing up, she clicked her fingers to indicate her assistants they were wanted. "People think stylists are only here to make you look presentable but they have no idea how much looking good will guarantee you sponsors. Sponsors, as I'm sure your trainer had explained, could save you from a lick of death and how you get them is up to you and me."

Elysia led her to another room through a white door hidden behind two racks where there was a silver mirror with a white dressing table, a ceramic white tub and two assistants donning the same white lab coat.

One was a man, underneath his lab coat was a blue tucked in button down top with black suspenders and polished gold shoes, his blue hair with enough gel to supply an art class with glue.

The other was a woman with the coolest grey eyes ever. Highlighted with blue eyeliner and shadowed in Payne grey, they were like gigantic blinking eyes of an owl. Her Greek, architectural tunic form fitting and loose around her knees, sandals perched her feet.

Elysia went over to a metallic silver desk to manage to the outfits while her assistants primed and primped her. In a compendium of pain, she had her eyebrows plucked, face slimed with gooey green god-knows-what, body doused in rose water, skin scrubbed to perfection and hair nipped until the brittle split ends had disappeared.

She felt like a mannequin display of beauty's regime: Beauty's a bitch but worth it. Whoever said it was clearly not right in the head.

"Okay, District Madrigal is best known for their Peace, right? And it's where they train Peacekeepers," Elysia glanced at Amy for a confirmation who was wrapped in a fluffy bath robe and her hair tucked into a towel turban.

"You're correct."

"I got a great idea. I want something green and warrior-ish like a fairy wood nymph but at the same time fierce and a force for good." Elysia rattled to her assistants. 'Oh and darling Portia, get that stupid headdress off- you look like a camel."

The assistants set to work as Elysia circled Amy like a hawk, studying Amy's petite round face shape and small pink cupid lips, inspected her oval green eyes and pale peachy skin.

In a whirlwind of clothes and brushes, soon Amy stood in front of a tall mirror staring at a pretty girl who looked older and more fabulous than the real Amy Cahill looked. Her long red hair been braided into a long, lush plait behind her and her green eyes were brought out intensely by the simple jade eyeliner with a winged end.

The glittering black jumpsuit with interesting white embroidery as a bodice on her midriff was flamboyant yet not too intricate and delicate but fierce and as dominant as a warrior. White boots perched on her legs made the outfit seem more…what was the word? Dangerous.

"Stunning, isn't she?" Elysia smirked at her assistants, satisfied.

"Wow," was all what a stunned Amy could utter at her reflection.

"You like it?"

Amy didn't know how to say. She looked…not her but yet _her. _The girl in her the mirror was not a girl anymore. She was a woman, like her mother. Beautiful and girly but with a tough, kick-it-in-the-butt edge. "Thanks,"

"It's not a problem." Elysia chirped excitedly, grinning as she fixed the gem of the jumpsuit and curled the last remaining lock of fiery red hair.

"It's b-beautiful." Her fingers ran through the shimmering bodice, feeling the rough material against her chaffed skin.

"Wow you look amazing!" Nellie exclaimed as she entered the dressing room. "Wish my costume was as cool as it was back in the day,"

"Well, you didn't have me," Elysia pointed out haughtily. Amy was in her own world, admiring herself in the mirror with a modest approach.

"True," Nellie admitted. "Anyway, schedule's tight and we need you by the chariots now."

"Wait hold on, I have the final bang to go with it," Elysia rushed over to her metallic desk and held up a lustrous silver quiver of simple arrows coated with silver spray paint. "When your chariot stopped in one line, shoot the arrow on top of the dashboard screen and wait for the magic. The arrow will do the rest."

"Are you trying to get her killed?" Nellie asked aridly, crossing her arms.

"She's already in the Games." Elysia pointed out flatly.

"Thanks for reminding me," Amy shouldered the bow and quiver. Nellie and Elysia (with her assistants) led her out of the room and passed through the numerous corridors when they took her into a big room where five chariots were set up and polished by the Cahill Games crew and saw her brother adorning the black and green jumpsuit awkwardly in the midst of the chaos.

"Dan," She called out shakily, running unsteadily on the high-heeled white boots.

She raised an eyebrow when she inspected his clothes. He wore a black, spy jumpsuit, almost identical to her but without the white bodice. A white C was stitched into his chest and two dual swords were strapped to his bag, making him looked like a very dangerous yet comical ninja (like he always wanted).

"Don't laugh," He grumbled and Amy bit the corner of her lips though her body was shaking with silent laughter. His hair was so gelled back; he looked like Han Solo.

"You look g-great." She stuttered because she was laughing so hard she stumbled over the words.

"Yeah, I bet." He stuck his tongue out and she rolled her eyes at the on-existent maturity of his response

"Dan, Amy, we need you on the chariot."

The small burst of humor faltered when Nellie summoned them over to the gigantic, bronze chariot dipped into black paint with green streaks running down to the strong wheels, ropes as reins propped up for them. They hopped onto the chariot and the roar of the crowds were deafening, even inside the larger-than-life garage. But Amy's heart pounded harder than any of the noises.

The Ekaterinas and Lucians were stationed right beside them. Another girl with long orange, carrot like hair stood tall and victorious in her chariot with two other red-head twins next to her. _Her brothers, _Amy figured. She was lovely in a yellow white Greek Goddess dress, a spear in her hand and a crown with an owl figurehead onto it.

Her red hair twisted into a typical braided Greek bun with olive leaves and glinting diamonds, the shiny bronze spear in her hands. Her two brothers were also donned into Greek clothes but with bronze armor strapped on top of the yellow tunics.

The Lucians were as hell as more exquisite. Natalie Kabra was even more beautiful than her mother in red and gold. Her dark hair cascaded down in loose curls, her lips red as wine as she tilted her head in Dan's direction and quirking her cupid lips into a presumptuous smirk as if she already know who's name spelled out in victory. The tight body-hugging medieval dress was not to be worn by someone was so young but the coy and cunningness in the girl had made the dress suit her so perfectly, it was made for her.

The Victorian velvet dress was not sleeve but with sheer arm straps around her biceps and the plunging neckline had boosted Natalie's age into adulthood, the golden strings crossed over her slim waist and the skirt was puffy and it reached to her feet, cladded into a gold heels.

A knife hung by a golden cord tied to her waist, the blade as dangerous as it master. Natalie Kabra looked like one of those girls she read about in medieval books, the ladies of the court- not the Queen but the dangerous mistress who was truly a hired assassin on a mission to kill the King in gain for the crown or bloodshed like a much racy Eris or a deceitful Aphrodite.

_I read too much, _Amy thought as she stared distractingly at the attractive brother Natalie was standing next to and exchanging awkward words of encouragement. He had annoyingly good aristocratic features, smooth cocoa skin and beautiful golden eyes. He looked like a handsome devil in the black huge button down suit with a red silk collar.

After a few creeping moments, the garage door started to roll open and manifested them to the eyes of millions.

The Lucians went first and the crowd went wild. Screaming names and holding up banners as the good-looking guy forced a smile and his sister bathed in the attention by tilting her head and waving her hand while smirking in delight.

Following the Lucians were the Ekaterinas and then the Janus, parading as the crowds went postal. President Vesper stood proud and brazen on his balcony of honors with his family, cladded in holier-than-thou white.

Her heart was so loud it was the only thing she could hear now. It was twisted in fear, pawing on the handheld ropes on the chariot. Agonizingly languidly, their chariot moved to the front and broadcast them out live.

Amy's face was on fire, figuratively speaking. Crimson shades appeared on her cheeks, she was sure she looked like a carrot wrapped in black aluminum foil. But then she saw herself manifesting on the large dashboard on the top of President Vesper's inflated head.

She looked different in the chariot. The crowds roar was tune out, Dan's hands intertwined with hers subconsciously out of anxiety and she was like a warrior. "I got an idea," Dan whispered.

"W-what?"

"This," Dan pumped his fist into the air, earning more head-disemboweling screams from the invigorated audience. "Do the same,"

Miraculously, she was still able to work her muscles and without shaking too much like a Chihuahua, she raised her fist in the air and the people went wild. They commenced a chant: "Cahill! Cahill! Cahill! Cahill!"

It kept going until they joined the others in a straight line in front of President Damien, whose cold blue eyes was paler than before. He smiled, taut against his lips and icier than the Arctic Circle. "Welcome contestants, Districts and the Capital," He introduced, his soft, scary voice dominating everyone. "Welcome to the 39th Annual Cahill Games!"

Cheers, claps and whistles were made.

"Settle down, settle down," He chuckled merrily, no warmth in his words. "The ceremony of the opening for the Annual Games is about to commence!"

Glorious, classical music start to fill the open streets, it mingled ostentatiously with the screams of joy when the wife of Damien Vesper, Enya Maurine Vesper (nee Castell), strutted in with her skyscraper heels and slimmed waist with a giant gold scissors. On the middle of street between the two metallic lamps was the red ribbon tied to it.

The blades hovered by the red straps and it cut through the satin material easily, the volume rocket launched itself as the chariot jerked into a move again, parading through downtown.

The games had finally began.

* * *

Once the parade has finished, the fans were still gathered around the tall skyscraper building and some were even camping on the streets. _These peoples are obsessed, _Amy thought, looking down from the 36th floor and through the glass windows.

Her red carrot hair was still in its styled copper waves, the silky apple green robe draped over her milky skin and the buttery cotton shorts and tank top.

Staring at her assigned bedroom, she exited out of the bedroom and treaded bare feet onto the cold floor, she saw Dan in a deliberately messy linen top and boxer shorts, watching TV and flicking through channels.

"Hey," The leather couch was stone-cold when it came to contact with her skin. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Amy, jeez, can a guy watch TV without his sister smothering him like a baby?"

"You _are _a baby. T-to me at least," She ruffled his sandy blonde hair and he rolled his eyes but the corners of his lips twitched into a small smile. A strange feeling of warmth spreads to her stomach before she realized this might be one of the last silent brother-sisterly moments they will share ever again.

"Hungry?" Dan offered her a bowl of misshapen, sallow yellow little chips in the bowl. "I found some in the kitchen and they're call rock corn or popcorn, whatever it is."

"Sure," The buttery, salty and crunchy taste melted into her mouth, a hint of sugar splitting into her tongue. "T-this is…"

"Awesome?" Dan supplied for her, eyes glued onto the TV screen. She saw he was watching a War documentary, a historical one based on the conflict between the Cahills and Vespers.

In Amy's opinion, it was unconditionally biased.

But Amy did not care because she was here with her brother, enjoying the taste of popcorn and having him curled up onto her, warm and safe at the moment was perfect, uninterrupted.

Feeling safe was something she had no felt in a _long, _long time.

Unable to sleep, Amy wondered out of her room, sneaking her way silently with Dan's blatant loud snores bouncing off the walls as she tip-toed out the door.

She used the elevator to go up the balcony on the 40th floor, looking out from balconies and breathing into gardens had always helped her sleep.

The wind gushed onto her face like cold ice smacking her head-on and she took in greedy gulps of air when she slid the glass door open. Curling up her limbs together on the iron wrought bench, she admired the bright hydrangeas and glowing white roses.

In front of her was the beautiful, glittering Capitol with it's perpetually blinking lights, it's precariously sustainable skyscrapers and honking, loud cars. Back home it was different; it was just an old, rotting village where here was a shimmering Metropolitan. She preferred home rather than this.

If luxury and comfort meant killing off her brother or sacrificing herself then why was it call luxury?

"What are you doing here?" A sneering, jeer asked her. It was the handsome boy. The one with luscious dark locks and patronizing amber eyes, she realized they were both beautifully captivating and dangerous.

_I'm allowed to be here, you don't own me or this. _She wanted to say but what mumbled out was, "C-c-couldn't sleep,"

He didn't speak for a moment or two. "Understandable." Rendering her speechless, she stared at the soft waves in the large river surrounding the Metropolis.

"Are- are you n-nervous?"

"I don't get nervous like you peasants." She blinked, taken by his rudeness and not in a good way. "I know I'll win," He said in his silky accent.

"W-w-what makes you so sure?" Amy challenged, the heat rising to her cheeks as she muster up as much hate to glare at the good-looking boy. He was as arrogant as he was good-looking, as rude too. "W-w-why do you t-think you-" _Stupid stutter, _"-deserve to win?"

Green eyes stared into his amber ones.

"Because I trained for it," He said coldly, "I worked every barking day, every howling night. So answer to that, whoever you are, yes I will win. Do you know what it's like to work for something all your life and not want it? But you have _no _say about what you want because…" He trailed off before refraining. "I don't expect _you _to understand."

Their faces were only inches apart, his cologne of clove was overwhelming, crumbling Amy to her knees and enslaving her to whatever trickery he had in mind. She managed to force it away with willpower and stare him down, trying to see some genuine emotion in him.

He laced his fear well but Amy could see it. He was ambiguous, trapped between the decision of killing his sister, as much as she was a pain, and taking the glory for himself. His eyes was really exquisite, they were an alluring colour, dangerous, sleepy, entrancing, dreamy. She looked down and he stood up, impeccable despite the abashed red flushes on his cheeks for nearly spilling his soul to a simple minded Madrigal girl.

She would never know what it was like to be him and vice versa. "I need to go," His articulate, measured footstep clicked away and she didn't even know it then, stealing her heart along with him.

* * *

**I hate this chapter. Argh, it's not as long as the others but I guess it'll do. I wanted it longer but I thought it was appropriate to end it here. I disliked the scene of Amian because I thought it was too out of character but that's just me and my critical perception. **

**Tell me what you think. I haven't updated in so long because of my novel (no I'm not published, you'll see me in about two years...). And other stuff. **

**I also included an Amy-Dan bonding time, there's not much fics on the sibling relationship there so I thought it need to be in because it's so ostracized. **

**Anyway, review, rate, favorite and alert!**


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